Infrequent vagrant though I am,
to hear the great frosts peal out noisily beneath my heels,
to see the slim hares coast away,
the bronze soils sealed by ice and scattered liberally
with scentless droppings,
brings me to the wonder of it.

I walk through winter’s paces:
bare fields, snapped stalks, rain-lines
smouldering beneath occasional sun,
and beauties multiply.
Where strong dusks pressed the daylight down
we stood…perhaps apart…like compasses.