Winter in the Village

Surrounded with trees,
Small ravine along the corps,
I call it winter in the mid of summer,
A place whereas no other would be,
There's winter in my village,
A saying that lingers in my head.

The grass green just like usual,
 No bed of snows needed to be worried on the porch,
Fallen leaves crunchier like ever,
Flowers bloom with the colour they were given to,
Unlike the other place that they have boasted of white,
The winter in my village,
Full of colours and the sound of nature as the music.

Crickets can be heard at nigh,
So loud that it becomes a lullaby to my ear,
Blankets are enough to cover me from the cold,
Never mind about the sky throughout the night,
For it is best to stay tucked on the bed,
As winter in my village,
Gives me a good night sleep.

Moaning for cold so early in the morning,
About the freezing water but still is water,
Not with the ice or frozen one,
Kept under the cold night for hours or so,
The people in village do not mind,
For the winter in my village,
Kept me fresh and cool.

Drip, drip, drip,
The aftermath of pouring tropical rain,
All the thoughts are the same at the end of the day,
That afternoon was just a taste of summer,
And that evening then comes winter,
Cause the winter in my village,
Would only appear when it rains.