Behind my home - January 2016
As wild as the wind whistling over the moors;
As loud as the creaks of the windows and doors.
As soft as the rain that patters on glass
And splashes cool droplets on hedges and grass.
As cold as the wind that blows on your face
And bows the stark trees without any disgrace.
As fast as the clouds that storm over the sky
And hide the night’s stars shining far up on high.
As feathery as flakes of white dancing snow;
As bright as the moon with her silvery glow.
As white as the snowman who’s built the next day
As the children rejoice in their wintry play.
As white and as wintry as this season can be,
And detested by many, especially by me,
There’s beauty galore in this white wintry scene -
Sparkling and glistening with its silvery sheen.