To Dream of Spring

Harvest is gathered,
Fields lay bare.
Already turned to the plough.
Pheasant and partridge
Lose their cover.
Grain piled high in the barn,
Straw stacked for winter use.

The evening breeze, sharper, cooler,
Colours dancing on the autumn wind,
Trees in winter silhouette,
An early morning frost,
A dusting of snow,
Cold, dark, winter evenings.

A glowing fire in the grate,
Another log brightens the flame
A warm drink,
A comfortable chair,
Time to rest,
To sleep,
To dream of spring.

Chris Roe