Cold  the  winter, bare  the  trees

The  berries are  all long  gone

Harsh  the  wind , the  water set  to  freeze

Still, hush all around  not even a  bird’s  song.

Expectant  they  wait, as  they  always do

For  the  flap  of  wings  that brings  the  news

Frost in  the  morning  and  the  evening  too

Tempers  fray and  sort  is the  fuse.

Finally  his  wings  are  heard approaching

Excitement  grows  for  the  news  he  brings

He has  seen  the  change  encroaching

The dark  has reached  it’s  length,  he  sings

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