Winter

{whistle, whistle}, howling wind,
Naked trees dance around the ben.
Silence hushes these quite streets
As children go inside for sweets.
The ravens and cardinals sing
And with a little swing of their wing,
They're off again, soaring in the sky,
To lands that further than yonder lie,
That I can only dream
Of ever seeing.
The wind tosses my hair
And steers away the leaves so fair,
Dreams of Winter holidays soar
And none a leaf seems to stay this time.
And though the wind is a mighty roar,
I stand in front of my town,
And watch for winter's soft white gown.
And as night's mare treads across the land,
The snow answers to her feet like sand.
Stars shine on lonely soils,
And cold around me slowly coils.
Cold harsh air attacks my lungs,
Christmas stockings of little 'uns,
And the menorah of the Doyle's
Shines brightly in the night
Like stars who are having a competition to see who'll shine so bright.
And when you put the young ones to bed,
With cheeks so rosy red,
They'll look out their window to see Jack Frost.
And with the ground oh-so glossed
With crystals shining bright,
Everyone, other than me, will be sleeping in the night.
My skin so sore
From the night's frost-bitten air,
I stand under the moon's soft glare.
A sight so beautiful, such as this,
Is very rare.