Winter

A marmalade morning
With a slow baked Sun,
Sauntering on porches
Not in for a run..
Sitting by the window...
Basking in the gold,
I tread into ruskin's
Mist soaked words.
Strolling on the lines
Dozing between,
Peeps back the magic
Mundane has shun..
When shadows on concrete
Look like a palette,
The masterpiece of nature..
'Winter', is done.