Winter Poem by Barry Stebbings

In cold, silent night with star filled eyes,
Austere Winter ascends her icy throne
And sternly rules under polar skies.

Sleep dulled hours tread slow with little sound,
The barely awakened days too short.
Gentle snow blown soft upon the ground.

Until spirited Spring usurps the throne
And Winter's loss to Summer's profit turns.
Then golden leaves by Autumn spirits blown

And ancient forest trees bend and groan.
Weary Days darken, Nature turns to rest
As Winter once again ascends her throne.