The falling clouds all do their best,
Before they are laid down to rest.
The swoop and soar and fly and glide,
Like following a professional guide.
They fly around like blobs of air,
Flying down without a care.
Hitting tree tops, roofs and cars,
Landing on the bus stop bars.
Freezing everything it touches,
Grasping everything it clutches.
The falling clouds are holding on,
Undoing their gliders because they’re done.
Making camp upon the ground,
And here comes that familiar sound.
I look out my window and all I see,
is a sea of green and red greeting me.
A peek of a leaf, a flash of a berry,
and this is why Christmas is merry.
One morning they’re white with frost and with snow,
the next they are vibrant, all colours on show.
The view from my window is so picture perfect,
theres no way this christmas could ever be wrecked.
I walk out to see them, to talk and to chatter.
I touch on a leaf and the ice tries to shatter.
But snap and creak, is all it can do.
I stay there admiring, til my lips turn blue.
The next day I venture, I go back to see,
and what I had saw was a shock to me.
A bend and a break, in the stem of the plant.
I stay in and rave, I stay in and rant.
Sometime soon I see it,
I go out with my kit,
of tape, feed and of cane.
I hope to repair, its major sprain.
A stroke of a leaf, not wanting to pick.
And met with a stab, a sharp type of prick.
Now more red is here, to join with the shades,
as leaves once so pretty, now sharp as blades.
Stuck, pricked and stabbed. My hand now is sore,
But makes me love my little holly much more.
Breathe a breath,
see it fly
out in front of you.
Breathe again and see it go further,
progressive,
still cold.
Breaths of ice,
inhaled as the winter announces its presence.
Breathe, see the season.
See the seasons wishes before you,
created by you.
Breathe a breath, sit back and relax.
Winter is here, time to wrap up.
A quick Thought 