The Sunday windows stained by rain
The Sunday windows stained by rain
The angry clouds are blowing
Inhospitable, wet and cold
This icy February morning.
This winter has been long
God help us in our misery
And hope seems as far away as ever -
How we wish for certainty.
The dogs are happy in their beds
It seems a day for sleep
Beside a heater that’s never off
A day for half-read books and strong tea.
I suppose we should be grateful
For seasons that are truly different
But how I yearn for winter sun
Why did I sell in Tenerife?
Where blue skies greet my breakfast bowl
Sitting on the terrace looking out to sea
Not wishing days and weeks away
But relishing every second given to me.
It was I guess to save a planet
From the flights to there and back
To be present for a grandmother
Who does what grannies do.
To bring back home
The proceeds that can change
For better the lives of others
Virtue is it’s own reward, I hope.
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