WINTERTIDE

'Twas that time of the year again

When the moor was smothered with a blanket of vampire-white snow.

The magling winds flayed the trees outside

And the fire inside felt like melted butter on the dermis.

The pale crescent of winter hung solus in the gravel-grey sky. 

Minuscule drops of dew rested on the leaves,

Perhaps jaded from their odyssey to the Earth.

'Twas that time of the year again,

When children awaited the chipmunk-cheeked man on a reindeer sleigh.

Odours of roasted chestnuts mildly caressed the nose.

'Twas that time of the year again,

'Twas wintertide again.