'THE WINTER CHILL... SPILLS.'

The Winter chill... spills...
Into throws of sleep-death enforcing hibernation to creatures
partial to it's twilight portals hidden... until Spring...
where the welcome of  new birth, growth, young life and noisy
birds chanting soires singing... they're settled in.
The Winter creeps... weeps...
And touches each day with tentacles of a quiet frost filled breeze,
As the snow floats merrily... the dew glistens... then is crunched...
under early morning loitering feet,
Sniffing noses the skin wrinkles... bones feel brittle and stiff
at the knees,
And the door mouse... hungry... is preyed on by a rodent bleeds,
Has finally escaped... but not from the wanton audacious freeze,
The Winter moans... but it's silvery thread glows..
the death of seasons through beauty seen... unless one's basking
in the southern seas,
the mind hurries gaining momentum and speed... whilst Winter
Moves snails pace for Spring's reprise.
It's so cold!
As the sun struggles to smile and instil a positive sight on a dim
but cloudy peak.