Page updated  14-03-2024-RL

Winter                            

She sat all afternoon Gazing at the steel grey sky,
Alone in her front row seat
By the window,
Living in the winter day,
Watching the insouciant blue tits
Skittering across
Her small, green garden,
Before taking flight Into the cherry tree.
The cherry tree,
Naked,
Reaching skywards,
A clear silhouette in the greyness,
Offered a trembling perch
On its most fragile branches.
Straining her eyes,
Leaning forward, she espied
The green shoots of her
Beloved daffodils,
A tiny snowdrop
Fiercely committing itself
To being there.
She smiled, unclasped
Her old, gnarled hands
And felt alive.
She watched the little girl next door
Skip past her gate,
Cosy in her hat and scarf,
Muffled up against the cold,
And waved,
Wishing she too could skip
Away the cold,
Be a bright light In the chill, grim grey.
Slowly the sky darkened.
Evening came.
Leaning forward,
She joined the darkness,
Resolutely
Looking for the first star,
The silver slice of moon,
Following the rhythm
Of the winter’s day.
No need of light now,
It will come again tomorrow,
And tomorrow.
She closed her eyes
And listened to
The silence.

Anne Wells January 2025 

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