Wicked wind blows through forest and dale
Withering leaves and flowers
Chittering squirrels weather the hail
Hiding away for hours
Winter approaches, horribly harsh
Blowing through cracks and hollows
Creatures prepare or sleep in the dark,
icicles sure to follow.
Is this the dawn? Then hours are lost!
Brightness that fills the sky
But it’s only the moonlight as sharp as the frost
As sharp as a fox is sly.
Bitter cold of a winter’s night.