A delicate dusting of dirtied white,
But this thin coat provides no warmth,
No refuge from the cold in sight.
Frozen too the mind's imaginings,
Of future greens and autumn's flame,
Subsumed in nature's deepest coma,
Trapped in winter's freeze-frame.
Thursday, 16 December 2010
An English field in winter
A delicate dusting of dirtied white,
But this thin coat provides no warmth,
No refuge from the cold in sight.
Frozen too the mind's imaginings,
Of future greens and autumn's flame,
Subsumed in nature's deepest coma,
Trapped in winter's freeze-frame.
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