After a winter of incessant rain,
Fields have turned into floodplains;
The village cricket pitch impersonates a lake
In which bedraggled crows leave gulls in their wake.
The weather has turned cold;
An icy wind has taken hold,
Stinging cheeks and numbing fingers.
Slipping slowly, the weak sun lingers.
Into a diluted sunset, birds take flight
From gardens tinged with frosty twilight.
Trees hold fast against prevailing gales;
Their branches billow and creak like sails.
Chimneys belch smoke and windows spill light
As villagers prepare for a winter’s night.
© Kim M. Russell, 2016