Winter Drought

Winter did not come that year
with a storm,
or rain, or even wind;
just an invasive,
chilling cold.

The sun shone
but, somehow,
its rays were all light,
no warmth at all.

Clouds rolled in from the south-west
but then moved on eastward
without the desperately needed rain.

Frost preceded each new dawn  
and, when it was too dry,
the dreaded "black frost",
leaving gardens
and even hardy roadside natives
dead, burnt black.

Water pipes froze overnight
and burst, 
flooding  homes,
and overtaxing local plumbers
who just could not cope.

We all froze, 
but then,
in our north facing sun room, behind the glass,
there was afternoon warmth;
in a well cooked meal with a glass of red wine, 
there was nourishment;
by a cozy wood fire with a good book,
there was comfort and friendship;
in bed, snuggled under an eiderdown quilt,
there was rest and refreshment.

The freeze will stop.
The rain will come.
We all will survive.

This winter drought
will be followed by the excitement of spring,
and the heat and dry of summer,
and the promise of autumn,
and then winter again.

Who knows when,
but it will rain.

We will survive.