Sunday, 11 January 2015

January sunsets

Like a baby's blanket
With gentle muted hues
Lovely pinks and oranges
Yellows and light blues
The Winter has a paintbrush
A magic of its own
To  fill our hearts with joy and love
As the sun is going down.
No flocks of birds will fill the air
Or feed their young in the grey twilight
Or spiralling from the eaves to fly
Or sing on a rooftop for our delight.
Look for a  robin hopping on the ground
The blue tits searching for some rind
A crow that is slowly walking around
No the sky is empty in the Winter time
But glowing with colours all sublime.


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