The Cold Heart of Winter

The old cold heart of winter
has descended upon us
It whips up a bitter wind
thrust upon us
and frost bites at our fingertips
and cracks our lips

Bare, bald and bony
spines of trees
stand stark
and skeletal
stripped of
their leafy sleeves

Knotty knuckles
of tree roots
climb, cling and claw
up the riverbank
as if gripping and grabbing
on for dear life
for fear of
dipping, slipping
and sliding...

into the river’s muddy grimy stew
spilling and riding along -
swampy, stagnant, sleepy and slow
As if weak of will, its pulse low

 Soft, fluffy, feathery snow
flurries downwards, falling
and with no school
next morning -
ready for snowballing