Winter

Now that the summer has gone We now walk amidst colours of gold Through fields of anticipation The prospect of imminent cold With thoughts of burning peat fires We crunch leaves as we walk The chill is getting to us now So we hasten as we talk We walk heads bent against the wind Hands snugly in the pockets Collar turned to keep out the cold Eyes watering in their sockets Home is where we want to be Out of the icy blast But needs necessitate to be outside Where the Antarctic spell is cast The stacked corn awaits collection Gulls ride the chilled waters Dark clouds fill the sky But the black swan falters The wintry tempest plays its hand Cattle shelter from its might Barometer is falling fast It’s going to be a bad night