these decidedly dark, desultory days
devoid, as they are, in so many ways
of light hearts and unencumbered thought
(not to mention the sun's cheering rays),
leave us to ponder what we haven’t got—
“youth” on the list somewhere near the top.
and so we slog on through interminable greys
longing for winter’s damp onslaught to stop.
even so, there’s a beauty in all of this blight,
the trees stripped of leaves upholding the night
and dreaming, perhaps, of the urges of spring
when the world once again will blossom in light.
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