I love the winter, calm and still,

when the life force withdraws

and sleeps among the roots.

I love the barren, naked trees—

fragile branching silhouettes,

transparent filigree against the sky.

I love the birds

Flocking together,

dancing through the air

seeking shelter in the shrubs.

I love the scarlet rosehips,

A splash of colour in the hedges

when all is grey-on-grey.

I love the mud beneath my feet

as it tries to pull off my boots,

and the puddles in the furrows,

mirroring the sky.

I love the remnants of snow,

clinging to the grass,

like crystalline sculptures

of frozen spiderwebs.

I love the leaden clouds

draped across the evening sky

And the glowing winter sun,

 heavenly fire, igniting the horizon.

I love the winter’s timelessness,

frozen in eternity.

But if you listen carefully,

you can hear the murmur of thaw.