It is Miid Winter and
Rain drops from every
Branch and gutterless roof
All arounder is the splatter of falling.

This is the season of gelatine brown leaves
And green moss, absorbing all life from
Straw grass, angled and yellow against rusting fences.

Absorbing life from wide eyed children,
Longing through water barred windows and
Mothers with washing on every ledge.

As tea from a pot each gully and drain
Gurgles down the pregnant clouds
Despised by arched back cats.

A crow makes a dash
From tree to chimney
Longing for days of soaring on
High warm currents in a green summer.

                        Ron Harding