Wrath And Beauty of Winter

 Winter nights, desolate and dark,

witness the wicked wrath of the stinging wind

on whose frenzied whispers dance the sad vibes

set to the music of the falling leaves from trees in trance.

As snow clinging to the naked trees as white quilts

on the lacy white hills at distant lands

falls soundlessly to the ground as cotton yarns,

the murky sky tries in vain to shadow their luster.

Though the earth in self-pity grows grim and gray

and the sky seeks its own shadows of gloom,

seeing the cold air nipping at my nose

the sky hands down its blanket for me to snooze.

People out there bundled up in woolen outfits

enjoy songs of brooding birds sipping hot chocolates.

Those indoors embrace the warmth of loved ones,

in merriment they lay hiding red roses on their cheeks.

Memories in my head dancing in daintiest hues

eulogize the stillness of winter for its artistic zeal.

Snow or sleet my heart mends with the spell of its peace.

My somnolent mind reflects how blessed we are

as the blinding beauty of winter sets before us its path bare,

for us to tread ahead with guts in good stead.