For my last post of 2023 I thought I’d share this sonnet. Much as it can be so disruptive, I still retain some remnant of my childhood love of snow. After week upon week of rain, rain, rain, I’m probably feeling a bit nostalgic for it!
Very best wishes for 2024, everyone!
Winter Hills
The hills look naked in this winter light.
There are no trees, no flowers; even grass
is thin like old men’s hair. The birds took flight
some weeks ago for warmer lands, en masse.
The ground itself is scarred with peaty sores.
The sheep that might have come here in the spring
have long ago deserted these cold moors,
a wilderness devoid of anything
that might give comfort to human or beast.
I’ve seen enough. I should be going now
and yet, the kindly clouds are keen to help, at least
– they do the only thing that they know how.
I leave, but glad to see before I go
the hills clothed in the glory that is snow.
Tim's Blog 