Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

pray (Remove filter)

Winter Sundays

We know each year it comes to us
Darkness, to bright cold winter days
The greens become a golden yellow
Before bareness reveals ageing old oaks
Yet cousins stay that darker luscious green 
And brave red berries are to be born again
In time for their festive December displays

Birds, squirrels, foxes and rats still search
To find enough to live in our way 
Close enough, but not as our pre...

Read and leave comments (4)

beeskisseslovepraySundayWinter

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message