Winter Malaise Poem by Diana Rosser

Festering leaves hem colourless trees;
lifeless silhouettes in somber air.
Silence, sulky, wet, hangs everywhere.
The clogging path upward guarantees
a digging deep for both thighs and knees.
Freezing shards slicing grey gloom declare
a demand to prospect and prepare
a way winter malaise to appease.
Yet underneath the washed brown branches
clear, shimmering, shinning, small pearls cling.
The orbs high up slide free in flashes
greeting the fall with tiny splashes.
Afar a church bell is heard to ring.
Here, the hidden red-breast starts to sing.