A Heavy Fog
The fog silently crawls across the sky and on the ground
And cloaks the countryside for miles around
And motorists drive with their headlights on though the clock has struck mid-day
And visibility down to twenty metres and everywhere looking gray.
A chilly day in Winter on the last week of July
The silent fog crawls on the ground and creeps across the sky
And motorists and truckies on the road to and from the town are driving rather slow
They even do drive faster in the frost and in the snow.
It cloaks the roadside paddocks and the houses of the town
And cars and trucks with headlights on the main street crawl up and down
On days in Winter now and then you do get days like these
Quite chilly days with heavy fog with scarce a puff of breeze.
The fog it creeps across the sky and covers everywhere
And the day is damp and gloomy and a chill is in the air
And children laughing at their play in the school yard nearby
Despite the heavy Winter fog their lunch hour they enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan

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The Mushera Fog
It steals down the mountain the Mushera fog
Across the mountain road and cloaks Togher Bog
On damp and wet days in Winter and the latter Fall
The traffic goes up and down road at a crawl
From the high road a steep dropp down the mountain side
And to drive fast there in the fog is a wish for suicide
But what a beautiful drive on a pleasant Spring day
When the hawthorns are in their white flowers of the May
A beautiful view of the countryside for miles around
As you drive up and down the high road on the higher ground
But from mid Fall to early Spring on damp weather of low cloud
The high Mushera road is cloaked in a gray shroud
As the low clouds of rain down the mountain side blow
For to cloak Togher Bog and the valley below.
poem by Francis Duggan

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Victoria's Weather
On fifth day of September five days into the Spring
The currawongs the birds of rain on the high gum trees sing
And weather back to Winter change and chill the breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
In latter days of Winter the weather nice and fine
And morning paddocks gray with frost that melted in sunshine
And temperatures rose through the day to near twenty degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze.
Victoria's weather changes quick it's always been that way
And a heavy shower of cold Spring hail has left the garden gray
A high of five a low of two that's what the forecast say
In the only place that you will get four Seasons in one day.
The currawongs the birds of rain sing on the tall gum trees
On this the coldest day of Spring it's only five degrees
And through the wood on Selby hill the chilly breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
poem by Francis Duggan

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Today A Back To Winter Day
Today a back to Winter day a chill is in the breeze
In early Spring in Victoria we do get days of under fifteen degrees
Today between the heavy showers a brief burst of sunshine
Yet compared to the heavy rains of yesterday today seems even fine.
September came in with a sunny smile only twelve days ago
But the past few days seem so different it seems cold enough to snow
Old Winter goes into early Spring some have been known to say
In that assumption there's some truth or so 'twould seem that way.
A pair of young red wattlebirds out of their nest unable yet to fly
Their parents utter their warning cries if danger lurks nearby
Each passing hour to them makes a difference tomorrow they might enjoy
With the help of their strengthening wings the freedom of the sky.
Today a back to Winter day though bursts of sunshine between the showers
And raindrops glittering in the sun on the beautiful wildflowers
Old Winter goes into early Spring and a chill is in the breeze
Though frail pink blossoms are in bloom on the nectarine trees.
poem by Francis Duggan

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A Cold Winter's Day
The weather cold and overcast in the middle of July
And cold jack frost blows with his chilly breath across the Winter sky
And in Kyneton, Trentham and Daylesford they have had a fall of snow
And the temperatures at zero and the weather glass is low
From Spring through Summer to late Fall the weather warm and dry
And for days on end the sun was burning in the clear blue sky
But the rain and snow is needed now and people pray for more
For the paddocks at this time of year never dry as this before
Yet today I saw a magpie despite the Wintery chill
Fly from the ground to a tall gum tree with a twig in his bill
For to build a nest an early sign of the approach of Spring
Of late in the darkness of the night I hear his kin bird sing
In parts of Central Victoria it is snowing, cattle bellowing for hay
And the cold breath of jack frost in the wind it has been a chilly day.
poem by Francis Duggan

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A Pleasant Day In Gippsland In July
The breeding frogs in the shallow pools are croaking
But they fall silent as near you walk by
Elusive creatures their secrets of survival
Is that they are small and hard to see and shy.
The day is pleasant if a little chilly
Even though the sun is shining in the sky
Still one could easily find a climate more unpleasant
Than South Gippsland in mid Winter in July.
A time of year when growth is all but dormant
Yet every day is one day nearer Spring
And even in the pale weak Winter sunlight
The magpie on a gum tree briefly sing.
It is a pleasant day to walk in Nature
White fronted chats from ground to fence line fly
On Winter months in small flocks they assemble
In rank coastal paddocks where the ground is dry.
On pleasant days in Gippsland in the winter
There's things of natural beauty for to see
And it is nice to walk the gravelly pathway
When the yellow blooms are on the wattle tree.
South Gippsland in Victoria in mid winter
A pleasant day with a slight freshening breeze
And it's not warm although the sun is shining
And the temperatures around fourteen degrees.
poem by Francis Duggan

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July The First
The grey roos sheltering beneath the pine trees it is a wet and a wintery Winter's day
Yet in the rain the magpie he is piping on a high branch of a tall mountain gray
And yet the weather is not cold or chilly it does not seem a bad start to July
The Winter sun by the rain is hidden and overcast looking the morning sky
The Southern Winter I feel is far more pleasant than the Southern Summer at least the weather never gets too cold
That I do find mild Winter days a bit chilly has to be proof I must be getting old
On the Winter flowering trees the red wattlebirds are calling they have a certain hoarseness in their cry
And the pied currawongs the dark crow sized birds their karrawang notes are uttering as through the park from tree to tree they fly,
The white cockatoos in the drizzling rain are squawking from other birds them one cannot mistake
They are at their noisiest in the gloam of evening and in the early morning at daybreak
Three species of white cockatoo the sulphur crested and long billed and short billed corella by voice and appearance from each other not hard to identify
They live in large flocks and to each other nearby,
The rain drizzling down from a sky that's gloomy gray
But for July the first it is mild enough for a Winter's day.
poem by Francis Duggan

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A Bright And Sunny Day
A bright and sunny day in the Winter it makes one happy to be alive
A nice day to go out the Country if one had a car for to drive
Or to have a walk in the parkland and enjoy the Winter sunshine
Last night it was windy and raining this sort of weather suits me fine,
It is said of Victoria's weather that you get four Seasons in a day
It rains and becomes chilly and windy and skies become clouded and gray
And then the sun burns through the cumulus making everywhere warm and bright
And sparrows in the sunlit hedgerows are chirping in the Winter sunlight,
A bright and sunny day in the Winter and not a rain cloud in the sky
A typical Winter's day in Victoria what one might expect of July
The State of four Seasons in one day of chilly wind and of sunshine and rain
The magpie he pipes in all weather and the breeding frogs sing in the drain,
A bright and sunny day in the Winter and not a rain cloud in the sky
In the State of four Seasons in one day quite typical one might say for July.
poem by Francis Duggan

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Winter Days Why Do You Came!
Snowy winter days once again came!
Ah Winter days
how did you came?
Haven't you met through your road crying summer days?
Haven't you met through your ways crying Autumn days?
Ah snowy winter days
Haven't you met your friends
Through your road
while you were coming here
Ah sweet summer days
They left us in vain
They Saw our pain
Even the sun above cried for children's ache
First time through my life time
I knew even the sun above has a heart.
While unfortunately human beings didn't have!
Ah chilly winter days how could you come here?
Haven't you met through your road mourning Autumn days.
They were broken when they left
As i know you are friends.
If you ever met them there
They would tell you about our aches.
How pain we've passed through
They saw and they felt
They went home crying all alone
Ah snowy cold winter days how could you come here?
While our world is bared it's clothes
And humanIty is bared of pity as well as the mercy
Poverty huged the cold and has wrapped our world
Ah, how much pain can we bear yet!
Ah, poor souls are in pain till the vein!
poem by Sossi Khachadourian

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Winter-Strike
Winter gray the light of day,
winter-gray snow-melt still on the ground
drawn the winter, long the week,
Monday-gray through Saturday.
Saturday night a freezing rain
left a Sunday washed anew
in snow pock-crusted lacy frosted
gleaming bright in the winter crisp.
Chatter-clatter clickety-tackety / hey, what is that sound?
Spin around with a cocking ear / hey, where is that sound?
Look up, look up to the highest trees!
Diamond-fierce the topmost branches
sheathed in ice — slicing in the wind — twigs all
sparkling rattling swaying shining pierce my heart.
I was eight and we were late to church
that Sunday, day of days
that first and best of all days since —
when tree ice beauty blew me sacred joy.
poem by Gloria Kim

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A Pleasant Day For July
In the cool sun of mid Winter a gentle northern breeze
Is whispering in the parkland on the gum and wattle trees
The leaves are quietly stirring as the branches gently sway
And the sparrows are chirping on a pleasant Winter's day.
Going by the weather forecast heavy rain is on the way
The calm before the storm as some are known to say
But we won't be complaining as we do need lots of rain
To add to the Town reservoir and bring life to the creek and drain.
A pleasant day for July in the Southern Winter of the year
The sweet flute of the magpie is a joyful thing to hear
The blackbirds in the garden gathering material for their nest
And Spring is not that distant the Season many love best.
A pleasant day for July with just a slight chill in the air
And even in the southern Winter days such as this are rare
The first of September the calendar Spring's first day
In time does not seem distant barely six weeks away.
poem by Francis Duggan

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Immune
When you're muffled to the chin and
You wear flannel next the skin and
'Spite of all, the frost creeps in and
Gets you, Winter's nearly due;
And, in snuffling citizens, a
Fierce attack of influenza
Wakes a wild, insane cadenza
With the burden 'Ar-tish-ooO!!'
Then a sight that sends me crazy
In these chilly days and hazy,
Is to see defiant Daisy
Tripping blithesomely and bold
In a blouse that's simply shocking
And a flimsy silken stocking,
All the ills of Winter mocking.
Does she ever catch a cold?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

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On This The Third Day Of Winter
On this the third day of Winter the sun it brightly shine
And the yellow tailed black cockatoos on the monterey pine
Grasp the pine cones with their powerful claws and shred them for the seed
And dropp the shredded cones to earth when they have had their feed.
On this the third day of Winter the white backed magpie sing
From branch high on the stringybark his flute like music ring
And on the lush grasses by the pond the dappled wood duck graze
Whilst others of their kin their feathers preen and in the sunshine laze.
On this the third day of Winter the butcherbird's song I hear
And did I not know what time of year it was I'd swear that Spring was here
Two days back the chilly gales blew fierce and the rain came lashing down
And now the sun is shining bright on the paddocks by the Town.
On this the third day of Winter the sun shines in clear sky
And myna with the scratchy song is singing as he fly
And a few days back it rained all day and the gums soughed in the wind
But as Shakespeare once wrote 'If Winter comes can Spring be far behind'
poem by Francis Duggan

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Near Castlemaine
The Winter mostly cold and dry
And little rainfall in July
And not much water in the creek and drain
By the old Town of Castlemaine.
In central Victoria a Colonial Town
Of 'The Wild Colonial Boy' renown
One of a dubious sort of fame
A ballad glorifies his name.
The chill of Winter in the air
And in the paddocks brown and bare
The cattle bellowing for hay
Close to their feed barrier they stay.
The magpie's flute is ringing clear
Always a pleasant thing to hear
They build their nest of sticks as Spring draws near
Before blossoms on the fruit trees appear
In Castlemaine on a Winter's day
The sun doesn't shine through clouds of gray
Yet little water in the creek and drain
And the bone dry paddocks thirst for rain.
poem by Francis Duggan

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Home Again In My Heart
One in a million in a lonely town,
Two hundred people trying to keep me down,
Ive taken all I can, I aint lookin back.
Small town boy in a back yard lot,
Cant make a living with the luck Ive got
Im gonna leave it all, I aint looking back.
Thats the way I remember, it seemed to me when I was young.
But I can still see the leaves slowly fall to the ground,
And the snow on the trees as the winter comes down.
Still I go home again in my heart.
My father worked hard on the railroad track;
37 years cut across his back,
He gave it all he had for what he believed.
Like every other kid that came before,
I grew up believing there was something more
And I still believe, I still believe.
Thats the way I remember, it seemed to me when I was young.
But I can still see the leaves slowly fall to the ground,
And the snow on the trees as the winter comes down.
Still I go home again in my heart.
But I can still see the lightning on a warm summer night
And the rain on the roof when I close my eyes;
I can still hear us laughing on the front porch in the dark.
There are days when I know that Ive traveled so far
That Ill never find the road leading back to the start,
Still I go home again in my heart
Still I go home again in my heart
In my heart, in my heart
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter Doldrums
Winter Doldrums
by Warren E. Barker
January,1959
The bells ring out the New Year’s here
It’s hailed by all with liquid cheer
And then the ice-pack’s put away
The Bowl Game’s o’er, and sad to say
No more days off for months on end
A dismal fact – one we should mend.
But soon the days are quickly sped
And warm, green Spring looms close ahead
The fishing season comes once more
Vacation plans – days at the shore
The summer brings the most of fun
To children, ‘cause their school is done.
But now, we dwell in Winter’s chill
The air so cold, the earth so still
The snow, the slush, the driving sleet
Chains on tires and boots on feet
But smile! Most likely we’ll get through
Besides, there’s not much else to do.
poem by Cheryl Hill

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Talking To Winter
'Merry Winter' winter said,
'May you be happpy by chill, '
I replied 'why thanks you alas,
This breeze is refreshing and shrill.'
Then winter said,
'My snow has to come, though it's late..'
I then replied in a pleasured voice,
'My Winter friend, it's really worth the wait.
For you can never desert us,
Coming every year, better late than never, '
Winter than calmly says,
'You're right, I have come forever.
Every December, Jan or Feb,
Turning up even in April I will,
To turn your faces warm with smiles,
So that you can feel the chill.
My soft cushions lay on the ground,
Snow, as I think you decide it's named.'
'Yes, that's its name' I replied nicely,
'That's what keeps Winter spirit, enflamed.
It's nice to know you Winter,
You bring happiness as well as a change,
You give us a shiny moon,
And coldness in a great range.'
'Thank you' replied Winter,
'Your comment has made me feel nice,
Like for once I feel warm,
My chilliness needs some spice.'
'Haha' I replied politely,
'I'd better stock up on heat,
Spice to winter sounds chilly,
Like giving coldness a beat.
Well thank you, what a nice talk, '
I said in a merry tone,
Winter replied 'well thank you as well,
Atleast this winter, I'm not alone.
Pleasurable talk, gets things open,
I hope we talk much more,
Maybe invite some friends?
I've got Autumn, Spring and Summer in store.
Lovely talk.' I replied 'same, lovely...'
poem by Viraj Bhanshaly

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Once Upon A Winter Day
Once upon a winter day
Gray clouds passed swiftly across the sky
As shapely snowflakes fell steadily down,
Covering the land in a dazzling white
Leaving a winter calling card on the ground.
Once upon a winter day
The snow-edged creek silently wept
Near the shadows of the tall pine trees
Trimmed in a glittering white lace,
Creating an impressive display in the breeze.
Once upon a winter day
Branches drooped to the impassable road
Due to the weight of the snow.
Icicles hung from the dormant trees
In view of the shattered daylight glow.
Once upon a winter day
Nothing is heard but rubbing tree limbs
And a stray dog faintly barking,
The vibrant sound of a frightened deer,
A broken tree branch suddenly falling.
Once upon a winter day
The distant snow-covered hills
Loomed in the path of the gloomy sky,
Where the northerly wind briskly growled
As chickadees and juncos fluttered by.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi

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In The Far Away Town
The cold northern winds blowing and the rain bucketing down
And the storm-water drains overflowing in the far away town
On the dimly lit main street on a wet Autumn night
Few cars or trucks pass up and down and not a person in sight
But in the local pub there is music, dance and song
And with the ballad singer the patrons happily sing along
In the rural town on a wet saturday night far inland from the sea
The local pub where the locals are does seem the place to be
For any form of socializing for those who enjoy such a thing
Some men when drunk they like to fight some like to dance and sing
The chilly wind of late Autumn has Winter in it's cry
And the thundery rain is pouring down from the moonless night sky
But in the local pub 'tis standing room only and not a vacant seat
And the music and pub din from there echoes down the quiet street.
poem by Francis Duggan

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Mother Nature Can Be Fickle
Winter’s cold is Mother Nature’s way
Of saying, lie with me now, lay your head on my breast
It’s snow, a blanket under which to lay
Neath a crystal cover, enjoying winter's cold caress
Frost rimed windows … Mother Nature’s art
Icy abstractions painted with frosty finesse
Crystalline concoctions that form only a part
Of Mother Natures wonderful winter largesse
Ice coated limbs of slope shouldered trees
droop drowsily down as if fallen asleep
Unable to sway in winter’s frigid breeze
Appear as white mounds, when the snow drifts deep
The stillness one hears on cold winter nights
Broken by the sudden crack of ice laden boughs
The ethereal essence of undulating northern lights
Headlights in the sky for Nature’s snowplows
All is withdrawn, in awe of Nature’s might
Willingly waiting, deep neath frozen ground
Safely sequestered, from winter’s cruel bite
In warm tunnels and burrows, til spring comes around
Mother Nature invites winter into her domain
Cohabits with coldness, wantonly sleeps with Jack frost
Yet finds cold winter quickly falls to disdain
Invites in the spring…and tells winter to get lost
Mother Nature is fickle…and also the boss!
poem by David Whalen

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Victim Of love
With the chilly winter winds blowing,
I have become the victim of love again.
Now I know that no two winters are the same,
and the tides of time I can’t tame.
With the ruthless cold winter coming,
I can feel the warmth of your love waning.
Now I know that no two winters are the same,
and to the tides of time I can’t blame.
With the dark winter nights falling,
I still walk beneath those street lights.
Now I know that no two winters are the same,
and the tides of time I can’t name.
With the silent winter days brightening,
I still listen to our rhyme.
Now I know that no two winters are the same,
and the tides of time I can’t claim.
With the infant winter dawn breaking,
I always hope against the hope.
Now I know that no two winters are the same,
and the tides of time I can’t make it the same.
poem by Sonam Tobgay

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