Possibly for the season’s last time, Seizing on pleasant nip in the air,
Woefully every year winter was, A bit short, yet a wonderful affair,
Recalling our preps for cool climes, With childlike glee so exhilarating,
Coats, jackets, caps, hoodies kept, In trunks would start unfolding,
Soaking soft rays of a gentle Sun, That often played hide and seek,
With clouds that listlessly swam, Drifting off on a mountain peak,
Days short, hazy, windy & nippy, Long evenings curled in reading,
Afternoons were shopping time, Nights for solitude & star gazing,
That kind of winter we all loved, Poets of old called it ‘celebration’
T’was time for wine, food, warmth, Of nature’s wonder & rejuvenation,
Then there‘s scary version of winter, Morning fog gets everything nixed,
You don’t want life that’s so chilling, Delays, cancellations, things unfixed,
Yet let’s think if we had no winter, Would spring then be so wholesome
If there was no taste of adversity, Would the change be so welcome ?
Somnath Sinha
Working on Living 