Mr. Winter Gayle

 Not sure if the fiddle music Victoria was listening to while baking influenced this one?...😉

note; this photo was an 'easier to ask forgiveness than permission' shot:)
I told her I'll remove it if she likes but she has now given me permission to
'not worry about it'!

Third Round of his rumpus within a week!

Take a break already!!

He breaks from his tether; a busker of breeze

Ruffles the feathers of fellers and trees

Without form he storms the earth, reckless and bold

Playing the streets like a fiddle of gold

No crowd kindly gathers; no clapping hurrahs

No nickels tossed with purple knuckles because

He is a wild rolling, bone-chilling bum

Playing the earth like an old tin drum

He is no crooner; he frazzles the fell

Tromping with trombone of highland and dell

Daring the dreamer to dance all alone

Playing the stream like a glass xylophone

Blue-lipped, he must be, but no one can say

He keeps the fans of his music at bay

In his own right, an infamous super-star

He plays the sky like a steel guitar

Mr. Winter Gayle, no one swings wide their door

To hail your carriage or plead an encore

But from windowed bunkers we watch you perform

While you play your number one hit; Winter Storm

© Janet Martin

On Saturday he forgot himself for a while

and played a soft snow-globe serenade...

 simply lovely!