A Winter Sonnet

(For a friend who is fighting his own battles).

Grey clouds, carrying snow, gather o’erhead

And the harsh frost bites deep into the ground.

The ice cracks and breaks with every tread

And the snow is a blanket killing sound.

The hills stand stark, shining white ‘gainst grey sky

And the trees are bowing to winter’s might,

When lonely calls the ghostly hoolet cry

And slowly sinks the sun to darkest night,

For time has wrought a pattern harsh on man

And life no easy balm or solace plies

Whilst pain is still the tune that plaintive plays.

Whilst winter wears her icy cloak no plan

Seems right, no escape route before him lies

No path there, but day after weary days.

(c) 2nd witch 04/01/10