Lighting the way

Long the winter evenings run,
Chill, damp, sharp with frost.
Torch beam so small, keeps pace,
Only the few steps ahead visible,
No rush here over the ice fixed ground.
Dark, clouded is the night,
No sight of stars or moon, pierce ink black,
Deep the shadows, skeletal the trees.
Stone hard ground, holds snowdrops,
Tiny buds of white, unfurling in the chill.
A hope, a promise of lengthening days,
Of sun dappled, leaf cast shadows.
Longed for, sun yellow blooms,
Awakened daffodils, in March breezes dance,
A memory to smile over, awaiting fruition.
So small torch beam lighting the way suffices,
Dispels the shadows depths, frost glistens,
Icy gloom beckons, to homeward turn,
Lock out dark, dank winter chill, so dreich,
Hope, heralds Spring, beyond icy hills.
Lighting the way to Summer.