Winter Contented by Anthony Ward

 Winter Contented

 

After the pastels of spring

The vibrant oils of summer embolden the canvas,

Before the charcoals of autumn

Sere with senescence,

Kindling to ash

The charred remnants of trees that creaking with wait.

Their chthonic vertebrae silhouetted by the sun,

Railing along the horizon,

Smudged throughout the cloud,

Amidst the watercolours of winters washed out landscapes.

Those whitening frosts diluting dawn to pink,

Bringing rivers to a standstill.

 

The crunch of crisp snow like fresh apples

Thuds you in the face with its brutal beauty,

While, bent like hawthorn, you brace against the chill.

Nuddling along disused railways.

Past preserved pastures and motionless meadows ,

Bludgeoned by the inclemency,

Heaths haggard with composure in tranquil taciturnity,

Amidst the most silent of seasons

Without which there would be no longing.