Alan Morrison's WINTER poems

Alan Morrison is a real nuts and bolts poet-in-residence. He is presently working as poet-in-residence in two psychiatric homes in the South of England. He recently e-mailed P-i-R a couple of experimental poems which serve to illustrate the kind of poetry he's currently working on with his students. It's a kind of acrostic poetry.
Having been to the psychiatric unit with its famous artists at 'Der Haus Der Kunstler in Gugging' near Vienna and studied what they achieve with paint and other materials P-i-R is naturally more than interested in Alan's psychiatric poetry workshops.
There must be many persons with psychiatric problems who can only express their feelings through paint, poetry and/or music. And it's people like Alan who help them, encourage them, show them the way do it. P-i-R humbly removes his poetic hat to Alan Morrison.
These acrostic poems from Alan's worksheets address the WINTER. Unfortunately P-i-R is unable to print them here exactly in the format that Alan would like to see but nevertheless they don't lose anything by this failure on P-i-R's part; they still manage to speak for themselves. A sign of a good poem methinks!

White drifts glistening, orange-blushed robins,
Inveigle our minds to yuletide's false promise
Nuanced in autumnal brittle hues -
Terracotta, copper, gold, all betray us,
Emptying to grey, dark clock-back days
Recalcitrant to all but desperate festivities.

summoned in with Wailing winds, lashing rains
coldest solstIce frosts the autumn light
each trembling November, branches crack
like chapped hands, dismanTled of their gloves
long fallEn, snowed under, crystallised -
the sun shuns half the day, Rises by dark.