Chill wraps the body
Creeping in
Unwelcomely
To bones
Stiff, aged,
Frozen
The too feeble sphere
Does not
On its daily arc
Stoop to thaw
Ice jewelled
Webs
Still, the sweet
Acacias stir
To brighten
The heathland
With their sun drenched
Orbs.
Sign
Days to come
Will lengthen, lighten
And warm the paths
Trod on this mid-winter
Traipse
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