Winter's in its final days
The sun has made its promised return
Headed north
soon past the equator
Daylight now past 6pm
Not long now till the equinox
Snow will come
and more high winds
The grass is brown
rustling horizontal
in the unceasing
gales of the northwest
Hailstones dance
in a fandango with the wind
but crows are nesting
and lambs will soon be here
As the days open out
the machair is empty
the roads derelict
the beaches waveswept
The Window on the West
is framing the setting sun
in a house now empty
of your voice but by memory
She who knows all
is awaiting patiently
in her forever home
for your promised return
February 2020
The wind blows hard
waves thunder ashore
snow patters
wet against the windows
Light is returning
from solstician gloom
but winter fights hard
to retain its icy grasp
The Window on the West
remains empty
She who knows all
patiently waits
The house on the shore
time bends you down
struggling on valiantly
where age ravages
Day drags by day
on the sloped street
where the circle decreases
as it goes round in time
I cannot retrieve
what has long since
been lost
hard though I try
The wind blows hard
the sheets of icy rain
lash the cobbled road
along which I stumble on
waves thunder ashore
snow patters
wet against the windows
Light is returning
from solstician gloom
but winter fights hard
to retain its icy grasp
The Window on the West
remains empty
She who knows all
patiently waits
The house on the shore
time bends you down
struggling on valiantly
where age ravages
Day drags by day
on the sloped street
where the circle decreases
as it goes round in time
I cannot retrieve
what has long since
been lost
hard though I try
The wind blows hard
the sheets of icy rain
lash the cobbled road
along which I stumble on
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