SONNET 73 WHEN WINTER GOES
When winter goes, I’ll not miss the cold air
With it’s biting winds and the sun’s cold rays,
Nor miss dirty snow that by the road stays,
Or treading on treacherous ice with care.
Not miss driving, not seeing anywhere,
Or struggling along the frozen highways
But I will miss those frosty finger days
That makes winter beauty show everywhere
I wrap up warm and the cold weather dare,
Look at the naked branches, each one sways,
They delight the eye through a misty haze,
A great winter painting so truly fair.
        I will not remember the dirty snow,
        But hoar frosted branches, and God’s love know
M Ann Margetson February 13, 2002
2002/1860/when/nature winter