Hello, Winter.

From the arc of rainfall from the sky,
To all the birds southwards up high,
To all those early mornings, dark,
To the absence of that singing lark.

From early eves yet dark again,
And cold north breezes, ice,
From endless bouts of killer winds,
To frost that does entice.

From the fine sheen on the ground,
To the grim forecast,
It's time for me to admit that,
The sun would never last.