Winter's Canticle

When Winter's shadowy fingers
First pursue you down the street
And your boots no longer lie
About the cold in your feet

Do you spare a thought for Summer
Whose passage is complete
Whose memories lie in in ruins
And those ruins lie in heat
When Winter comes howling in

When the wind is singing strangely
Blowing music through your head
And your rain spattered windows
Make you decide to stay in bed

Do you spare a thought for the homeless tramp
Who wishes he was dead
Or do you pull your bed clothes higher
Dream of Summer instead?
When Winter comes howling in

James Alan Hull

So Winter has finally slipped into our lives once more. These are a few of the leaves, which at some point I will have to collect and bin.