When did the mornings grow ever so cold
And the nights so awfully old?
When did the street lights that splash in the rain
Start their shimmering over soaked drains?
When did the buskers that brave the scarfed throngs
Start singing their seasonal songs?
When did they suck the warm air from my room
And the fire right out of the sun?
When did the year fetch its great overcoat
And furs rather linens promote?
When did the boiler begin with its burble
And the radiators tinkle and gurgle?
When did shorts stop being a thought
And my soles to slippers resort?
When did the joy of a fresh jug of juice
Turn to Thermoses cleaned out for use?
When did our love-making hide under sheets
And hands hunt hungrily heat?
When did the streets fill with rain and with sleet
And the people stamp big booted feet?
The answer is blown from our lips in the street
And told by the tatters of trees.
That’s when we know it’s the turn of the year
And the time to turn inwards for cheer.
