January's greys and browns
replace the greens of the towns;
sparrows' flight circling trees,
Summer's gone the way of bees,
cold winds blow through my hair,
frozen as a snowman's stare,
tightly wrapped to seal in heat,
scarf around neck and wool-socked feet,
temperatures plummet below zero;
the shinning sun is my hero...
Giving me faith that soon it'll be spring
and the bees will buzz and the birds will sing.