Winter is one of the four seasons of temperate zones. It is the season with the shortest days and the lowest temperatures. In areas further away from the equator, winter is often marked by snow.

Depending on place and culture, what is considered to be the start and end of winter vary. Contemporary meteorology takes winter to be the months of December, January, and February in the Northern Hemisphere and June, July, and August in the Southern Hemisphere. However, many cultures in Europe and East Asia consider winter to begin in November.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winter



Winbter has a beauty of its own.
In many parts of the world winter has arrived...

A Story in the Snow
by Pearl Riggs Crouch

This morning, as I walked to school
Across the fluffy snow,
I came upon a bunny's tracks --
A jumping, zigzag row.

He must have hurried very fast,
For here and there I saw
Along his jerky, winding trail
The print of Rover's paw.

I set my lunch pail on the snow
And stood there very still,
For only Rover's clumsy tracks
Led down the little hill.

Then suddenly I thought I heard
A rustling sound close by;
And there within a grassy clump
Shone bunny's twinkling eye.

Winter Time
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.

Winter Night

It snowed and snowed, the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

As during summer midges swarm
To beat their wings against a flame
Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed
To beat against the window pane

The blizzard sculptured on the glass
Designs of arrows and of whorls.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

Distorted shadows fell
Upon the lighted ceiling:
Shadows of crossed arms,of crossed legs-
Of crossed destiny.

Two tiny shoes fell to the floor
And thudded.
A candle on a nightstand shed wax tears
Upon a dress.

All things vanished within
The snowy murk-white,hoary.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

A corner draft fluttered the flame
And the white fever of temptation
Upswept its angel wings that cast
A cruciform shadow

It snowed hard throughout the month
Of February, and almost constantly
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

-- Boris Pasternak

Picture Books in Winter
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Summer fading, winter comes--
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.

Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.

All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children's eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.

We may see how all things are
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies' looks,
In the picture story-books.

How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Jack Frost
by Helen Bayley Davis

Someone painted pictures on my
Windowpane last night --
Willow trees with trailing boughs
And flowers, frosty white,

And lovely crystal butterflies;
But when the morning sun
Touched them with its golden beams,
They vanished one by one.

quote:

Originally posted by dear Inda:

A Story in the Snow
by Pearl Riggs Crouch

This morning, as I walked to school
Across the fluffy snow,
I came upon a bunny's tracks --
A jumping, zigzag row.

He must have hurried very fast,
For here and there I saw
Along his jerky, winding trail
The print of Rover's paw.

I set my lunch pail on the snow
And stood there very still,
For only Rover's clumsy tracks
Led down the little hill.

Then suddenly I thought I heard
A rustling sound close by;
And there within a grassy clump
Shone bunny's twinkling eye.

OK OK, I don't have the BEEEAUTIFUL poems to post! Lovely!

So I'll just post some fun-ease! he he..

Lookie here: http://www.coolnotions.com/AGifs/gifs38.htm

following is from:
http://birding.about.com/library/blclip-holwinter31.htm


Love and light being, Teo Do (Re, Mi, Far....)

I like winter because it is fun. It's fun because there's snow everywhere! I like snow, especially when it is white and clean.

Tang poetry

Before my bed, the moonlight shines,
Could it be the frost, covering the ground?
I raise my head, look at the bright moon,
I set back, and think of my native land.

(Translations are never completely accurate)

yoko

Winter by Tommy Makem

WINTER, a sharp bitter day
the robin turns plump against the cold
the sun is week
silver faded from gold
he is late in his coming and short in his stay


Man, beast, bird and air all purging, all cleansing, earth already purified awaits the rite of spring
Her bridal gown a virgin snow and frosts in her hair
A snowdrop by the road today bowed gracefully and high upon the wing up in the sparkling nothingness, a lone bird
began to sing
Can gentle spring be far away?

Thank you Teo and yoko. I love the images.
The cat is being so naughty



I Heard a Bird Sing

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

"We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,"
I heard a bird sing,
In the dark of December.

Oliver Herford

From: The Bells

By Edgar Allan Poe


Hear the sledge with the bells,
Silver bells!
What a world of merryment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind
by William Shakespeare


Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing . . .

Spellbound
by Emily Brontë


The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.

The Snow Man

by Wallace Stevens


One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

It IS getting sort of cold...

May it all work. Wow it does! Amen.

Robert Frost


Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer


To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake


To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,


But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Anonymous Frontier Guard (8th century)
Japanese

While the leaves of the bamboo rustle
On a cold and frosty night,
The seven layers of clobber i wear
Are not so warm, not so warm
As the body of my wife.

Thank you Administrator and yoko.



Song

A window bird sate mourning for her love
Upon a wintry bough;
The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.

There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
No flower upon the ground,
And little motion in the air
Except the mill-wheel's sound.

Percy Byshe Shelley

The Joy of the Snowflake

If I were a snowflake,
Drifting freely in the sky,
I'd make sure of my direction-
To fly, and fly, and fly-
There is a direction for me on earth.

I won't go to the lonely sequestered vale,
I won't go to the foothill so quiet and cool,
Nor shall I loiter sadly in a deserted street-
I'll just fly, and fly, and fly-
You see, I have my direction.

Gracefully I shall dance in the sky
Until I've spotted that pleasant place,
Until she comes out to see the garden-
I'll fly, and fly, and fly-
Ah, there is a subtle scent of the plum blossom on her.

Then I'll count on my body being so light
Gently I'll cling to the lapel of her robe,
I'll cling softly to the soft waves of her bosom-
To melt away, and melt away, and melt away-
Melt into the soft waves of her bosom.

Chinese Traditional

From Revery
By Mihaly Vorosmarty

...For thy love,
On yonder mountain high,
I'd be a tree and dare
My head to storm-winds bare;
Each winter willing die
For thy love...