The soft brittle moon casts eerie a glow
Causing grey shadows to dance in the snow
In the still morning, not a sound is heard
No cheep of squirrels, no trill of a bird.
Spooky and quiet, the world now seems so dead
Gone are the gold leaves, the browns and the red
Gone are the flowers, so bright and so gay
They warm a cold heart; they make a new day.
Then into this world, so cold and so dead
Little white crocus soon pops out its head
Shadows of moonbeams all whither and die
And brightest Spring sun, soon fills the dark sky.
A neighbour’s dog barks at soft melting snow
The bedroom is bathed in bright golden glow
Sounds of children, as night comes to a rest
The world comes alive with Robin red breast..