Winter

Its a pitch dark night,
The light from the lamp posts,
Cast a shadowy,smoky light,
On the pavements and the shady roads.

The dark streets wear a look so deserted,
Only some undefinable figures around,
One cannot ,from the other be seperated,
Clad in great coats,homeward bound.

The trees are silhouetted against the sky,
The watery moon barely illuminated.
An occasional  hooting owl fly by,
Its a night eerie and so haunted!

The doors are firmly shut,
The lights through the panes,
Are the only sign that is but--
Tells,theres life thriving in the lanes.

Out of my window,into the night I peer,
It makes me wonder,I try to figure out,
Why the winter is so silent and queer,
Replete with so much gloom all about!

It was then,the Child in the manger born,
In celebration, houses and streets they adorn.
Winter is pure,garbed in pristine white,
The snowy earth,dazzles the sight.

The winter is but a reminder,
The spring is just round the corner,
When nature outdoes herself in perfection,
An undeniable evidence of Divine  intervention.
                                                                           Chandni.