Swansong February

Woodlands of nocturnal;

abode for slumbers dwell.

Veiled airs, crisp with ice,

taint frozen with their smell.

 

Oppression of stark trees,

in hardship, they persist.

Robbed of blossoms dignity,

but surrender, they’ll resist.

 

Prolonged, the war of skies,

by threat of sombre shades.

Beneath clouds hailing stone,

does fall the glacier’s blade.

 

Tender hands fiercely bitten,

by pinching gales of feral.

Unshielded from the mercies,

through reign of winters peril.

 

Alas now drips, dew in thaw,

dispelling snows of dawn.

Valorous dusk creeps awake,

as sunlight takes its yawn.

 

In hibernation, stir hedgehogs;

soon gently ends their snooze.

Impending spring marks revival,

absconding chill cold blues.

 

Stoic landscape patiently waits,

for natures springtide shine.

Magnificent, shall reap reward,

in season’s rebirth time.

 

Rejuvenation looms now imminent,

as swansong sings to show.

With February, does so mark,

this winter’s final flow.

©Brett Kristian 2019