The countryside dazzles, a pageant of glistening white.
The magical rime of last night’s hoar frost decks hedges and trees in Christmas tinsel.
At my feet the fields lie frozen, a milky, plush-piled Persian carpet.
The fog which brought the whiteness has conceded.
Yielding to the same sun which will destroy what it now enhances.
Heavy uddered cows pick their way gently, waiting the farmer’s call to milking.
His cottage roof sparkles to the chimney where the smoke tells of his early rising.
I test the ice that stills the silent stream
And watch two mallards skate to bank-side to squat and wait for feeding time.
A dog barks in the farmyard as dawn renews a winter’s round.
