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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