Garden fences weathered brown
Homestead and outhouses have a sorry look about them
Hedge rows longing for the arrival of spring.
Indoors the sound of the wind
Outdoors the wind
Oh for just a handful of quietude.
The black greyness of winter
Will shortly be but a memory
Living in hope of a brighter world
Staring back at me from my pages.
(c) Chris Black. January 2018.