Time of the year

Distracted by the faint chirp of birds,

And besotted by nature’s symphony.

I willingly give in, to the lure of words
And within my self, I find harmony.

What’s with the seasons, you may ask.

That makes us spread wings at times,

And glide over the stars in the dark.

It’s the magic of the winter climes.

We shiver and swear, but love the air;

Snuggle and cuddle, in bundled up ware.

Socks and woollen gloves we wear

For this awful chill we have to bear.

New year is around the corner, I think;

And warm wishes galore, in the offing.

A small prayer, I would like to send in,

Let the good times and tides, gently roll in.