Polly

Writings and Witterings

No Snow

3 Comments

New Year, and there’s
no snow.
No icicles.
On we go
to see the wraith
of seasons gone,
the phantom here,
the ghost of those to come.

New Year, and there’s
no snow. No icicles. No frost.
Savage spectre of what is lost.
Seasons change.
Extremes occur:
spring’s like summer
used to be. Summer’s short.
Autumn comes early.

And so it goes from year to year
the seasons change, become austere.
Those who live with constant jeers
say this: until we do something,
until we care,
it’s our world, our earth,
whose fate
we share.

Polly Stretton © 2016

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3 thoughts on “No Snow

  1. Strong message beautifully stated 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Lovely poem. Sad indeed that there is no snow – yet – though we have frost this morning and a cold spell is forecast, but there is no doubting that the seasons are upset.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. And worse there are so many of power in denial…

    Liked by 1 person

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