Frost fingers all in mesmerised still
bright crystals decorate like candied sticks
all is clothed to act this winter's solemn dance
through our imagination
trees bustle in the valley their heads of palest grey
while hills in heavy moleskin coats mimic the clouds
those cumulus shrouds that drape our season all in white
so cold - so desperate - a sense of nature's sleep
petrified each straw - left like sculptures bent
and when the dawn its blue turns soft sweet pink
we gasp - how beautiful the view as if 'twere new

Margaret Ann Waddicor 19th January 2016