Gordon Gilbert Tully

(Gunnislake, UK)

The Seasons

Time goes slowly, when the countryside cold,
And icicles hang, like long beams of light,
That sparkle in moonlight, and burn if you hold,
The moon in the heaven's, a lantern so bright,
crisp crunching footsteps, will always sound clear
As moonlight is dimmed, in the cold country night,
By fast fleecy clouds, like frolicking deer,
And warm are the winds, that caress this mantle of white,
Dissolving so slowly, in the dawns misty steam

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