Suzy Davies's Blog: Book News - Posts Tagged "nostalgia"

Slowly as the nights draw in
the brightest stars will shine again,
when skies of cloudless
midnight blue,
burn white fire of every hue.
Sunrise is gentle,
in morning hours,
and dappled light,
beneath the bowers,
streams the sunshine
in pastel shades
as Autumn closes its parades.
Some days have rain
or softest sun,
that warms the earth
in waves benign,
and migrating birds have flown -
bound for southern,
sunnier climes.

Slowly as the nights draw in
the brightest stars will shine again,
when darkest heavens, of
inky blue,
burn with fire of every hue.
And the late sun
casts shadows, long,
along the paths
where children run -
nature’s harvest in their hands
they hurry home,
their hearts are glad.
In November’s afternoons
the days seem shorter
when at school -
for round the corner
Winter’s here
and homecoming,
at end of year.

Slowly as the nights draw in
the brightest stars will shine again,
when the sky is blackest ink,
when temperatures
begin to sink.
The morning Sun,
with frail fingers,
melts ice fronds
that always linger.
Later and later
she shows her face,
and vanishes,
without a trace.
One late December afternoon
a pregnant sky
above us looms,
dazzling’s
the light, cast all around,
till the first snow,
without a sound’s,
buffeted on eastern
winds, that blow,
across this land
I love, and know.

Copyright Suzy Davies 12/11/2017. All Rights Reserved.

Stillness, silence, snow, and frost,

the golden shades of Autumn, lost.

The fields crisp white, mountains high,

with snowy peaks that stretch to sky.



A solitary shepherd, in twilight,

searches for lambs before the night;

a faithful hound slips like a shadow

twixt stream and valley and sleepy hollow.



No-one stirs - not valley streams,

and all is frozen in our dreams.

The cottage huddled neath breast of hills,

all is silent as Time stands still.



A glimmer of light comes from yonder -

a tiny cottage awakes from slumber

and children run outside to play,

in crisp brightness of snowy day.



Everyone wakens - chapel bells ringing,

and from the churches, sounds of singing;

the landscape remembers the days of old,

our footsteps: fond memories, in the snow.



Suzy Davies 2018. All Rights Reserved.

Sometimes, in spring,
when blossoms blow,
I dream of ice and fire, and snow.
Of dreamy winter wonderlands,
romance of couples, holding hands.
Of starlit nights and snow-filled skies,
of snowflakes drifting before our eyes,
like cherry blossoms from the trees,
they are love letters on the breeze.

Sometimes, in winter,
in silence, deep,
when the whole world is fast asleep,
I catch a fragrance in the air,
that seems to say the spring is near.
The trees bedecked with blossoms white
glow and sparkle in the night,
shimmering echoes of love's sweet dream
whenever cherry blossom's seen.

Copyright Suzy Davies, 2019. All Rights Reserved.