Ranks of grey leafless trees,
Line the
hilltops under grey skies,
Like ranks of
determined sentries
Guarding
against any changes.
'We want our winter back'
Their leafless limbs silently semaphore
To all who are ignoring them.
Below in the valley
As many people with many bags,
And a few
small pet dogs
Speed progressively past
In
a mechanical caterpillar.
All
travelling somewhere
In a frenzy
of activity.
Because
doing something
Is always
better than doing nothing
When a year
dies .
It has been like
this
Ever since
someone
Crowned with
antlers
Danced in a
firelit cave.
And activity
works,
As it always
has,
Because today
is very slightly longer
Than yesterday.
And that
continues until
The sentry trees
stand down
From their duties,
Dress themselves
with buds and leaves
And sleep
for another summer.
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