Winter Song Poem by David Wood

I walk through the winter leafy glade
A carpet of gold and red and brown
Cascade at my feet through which I wade
In the wood at the edge of the town.

Bare trees thrust their branches skyward,
Like pointing fingers accusing the sky
Of creating a cold dank misty wood
Where a solitary magpie does fly.

Songs sung by the robins echo around
The wood and an orchestra of blackbirds
Make music come to life with their distinctive sound;
A solitary nightingale knows all the words.

The fountain from the lake falls in perfect pitch
Forming eddies which the fish swim through.
And voles and mice dance through a ditch
Where squirrels gather nuts quickly and true.

The wood was rough with several meandering tracks
Where people wore their days with long masks
Sowing dreams and reaping realities hard facts
Some recall the drabness of life's hard tasks.

But the wood will live on for many a year
And robins and blackbirds will entertain all
Where life in the wood will remain everything dear
Looking forward to spring and the mid-summer ball.