Weary clouds are nearly spent
Painting the vault in even blues,
Soaking days in honeyed hues;
Myriad birds from where they went,
Sing that Winter is not far.

Tang of old in the morn chill-
Devil’s flowers shed on the streets,
Dying leaves spread in sheets,
Last night’s fires burning still;
Smells like Winter is nearly here.

Swiftly swooped in the cover of night,
Silent winged like a great gray owl,
Shrouding the world in a dusky cowl;
Knight of Day too has lost his light,
Looks like Winter is here to stay.

Snapping jaws bite to the bone,
Road and morrow mired in gloom,
Feet and mind snug in woolly womb,
Hearing dogs howl and moan;
Feels like Winter will never leave.

Sombre shadow gently yields,
Spring bound wings heading home,
Gay are those that stay and roam,
Grain and straw in sunlit fields;
If Winter comes, then Winter must go.