Grey black clouds
dance a Tarantella
across the angry sky

to the ancient rhythm

  of a wild ,winters wind,

 heralding autumns passing

with the first threat of things to come...

Our frozen minds cling still to images

of sandy shores and sun dappled oceans,

and while November beckons winter

to please ‘Enter here’

we poor mortals cling to hopes of Spring..

Vicki x

I hate winter.. so there!