Dreary January

Beneath the blanket cover

Beneath the sky of grey

January so dreary

Each drizzle-moistened day

Dawn in mist-enshrouded

Mornings with dull light

Afternoons fore-shortened

Then rushing into night

Stark trees across the landscape

Bare branches stripped of leaf

Outstretching to the heavens

As if consumed in grief

Spring a distant vision

Winter all too real

Box sets on the TV

Losing their appeal

And yet there is the promise

That summer will return

For all those lazy sunlit hours

The soul can simply yearn.