The h2g2 Poem
Created | Updated Aug 13, 2003
Winter
Beneath the winter skies of pale blues and greys,
Somnolent-stirrings of tiny creatures in their burrows lay;
Dreaming of the summer tidings and harvest catches,
Scurrying in dark attic recesses beneath cottage thatches;
The pleasures of the table, wind and feasts,
Safe from the hunting eyes of the wild beasts.
Down by the river bank the mist begins to unfurl,
Creeping silently as it swamps the land in sweeps and curls;
The stillness of the grey shroud quietly covers,
Eerie and spectral as above the Earth it hovers;
What strange ghosts lurk in that mist and wait?
In what unseen world is their final fate?
These phantoms, wraith-like and made of nothing,
Disturbed only by the church bells as they ring.
Somewhere a dog barks at the shifting air,
Is it near or is it far? Where is its warm lair?
Sound is confused and shifting in this fog,
As it spreads out over fen, dale and bog.
Above the fog the clouds gather and join,
And threaten snow to fall from their billowing loins;
In the crisp early morning grey and still,
The first flakes of winter in the air soon fill,
Flurries here and there in splendid pandemonium,
And the children shout with glee and in the commotion
The snows hurls itself towards the Earth,
Whilst older folk warm themselves by the hearth.
It soon gets dark and the sun slips away,
Thus ends another cheerless winter day;
But no stars are visible in this evening sky,
For they are above the clouds distant and high.
In the midwinter bleakness the world is still,
The river is frozen and turns not the mill;
Small lights twinkle from the windows of homes,
Whilst outside in the freezing snows the beasts roam;
The fires crackle and cheer with warmth and heat,
Drying the clothes of farmers with frozen feet,
With dogs curled up beside the flames,
As the snow and wind pound the window frames,
To spend another Arctic night against the cold,
In glowing warm cottages whilst the winter holds
The land in a frozen place and a frozen time.
