Our winter of content Snug we are in this our winter of content, sheltered from the storms the cutting knives of winter sleet and snow, driving on the drifts of Jack Frost’s coat to turn from green this land to Santa’s whitened wonderland. All is still upon the ground the storm has passed, the bough is glistening with its new white shroud. The web that once we did not see, takes centre place twinkling like lametta on the tree; restored once more a level of tranquillity
A single rose all draped with icy garlands stands alone, a pansy standing blue a proud its petals edged with winters shroud, the last to share its colour on this morn. As the season takes it’s grip the last of summer life is put to rest replacing buds with baubles beads and lights, bringing back a winter kind of life....
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