Winter Blues

An old crow caws up in a naked oak tree 
and the ground is covered

with frost in the early morning 
as the sun slowly warms the cold crisp air.

More long nights lie ahead with little work outside 
but more inside.

It is time to retreat into the fog for awhile
and take a long rest.

The cat lies at my feet sleeping
as my eyes grow heavy

and my mind becomes weary.

The short days slip away into the darkness 
and then they gradually grow longer 
with intervals of sunlight between
the heavy rain and

light showers.

There is a feeling in the air of death 
before rebirth. 
Then the Winter Solstice comes and

the Canadian geese fly north in a

v formation 
filling the cold wet skies with song.