A Winter's Tale

Not the end. Not death.

Just life cycles's weakest breath.

Before it breathes into us life anew,

from the wildest man to the tamest shrew.

Sheepish clothing and ripening cheeks,

on playful people on icy streets.

Eagerly awaiting the first of the snow,

with sledges to hillsides they all will go.

Animals hoard their seasonal fare,

storing it safely in their lairs.

Whilst all around leaves of fire from trees are shedding,

to become a hibernating animals winter bedding.

They sleep so soundly till the cold finally flees,

then awake to blossoming blooms and buzzing bees.

So don't fear wicked Jack Frost's wily ways,

when you wake up on  the bitterest of days.

Just remember that nothing lasts forever,

Everything changes, the seasons, the weather.