winters evening
shard filled breeze nips my ankles
while surfing the net

bone chilling grayness
words like chicken weather
spring to mind like foul

the ripping cold wind
tracing the formation of
my celtic spirit

dark afternoon clouds
weaving a winter tartan
of light shards and wind

green tinted snow clouds
makes you forget spring and her
many tender shoots

crunchy morning walk
crow flies by with shakey call
were just traveling though

dusty white chrystals
covering cars and grasses
hanging on so tight

the seasons first day
a fleeting hope and dreamings
for a snowy morn

turning the corner
glimpsing winter flying by
bone stripping coldness

soft eyed look of hope
down the bony skeleton street
of trees stripped naked

a tent of odours
where the angels fear to tread
on long winters nights