Autumn leaves despatched to the compost bin,
The last of the roses, on straggly stems,
Wait patiently for pruning to begin.
Snow on the mountain heralds change for them.
The large bluegum flowers are past their prime.
Wattle prepares for a winter display.
The westerly winds blow most of the time.
The daylight contracts with the passing days.
The winter solstice and the longest night
Are fast approaching. Yes, winter is here.
Dress warmly, light the fire and you’ll be right,
But, if the winter cold’s something you fear,
Join the Grey Nomads migrating northward,
The warmth in Queensland drawing them onward.