The frost hangs frondled on the fence
pale limpid sun sheds glimmering light
Cold dank air swirls as a skirt enfolding
the trees in its midst
Hard-caked earth frosted in places
where the sun has not left its pallid warmth
The last of the flowers, bent and motionless
as if in slumber, colourless and cold
Children in bright attire paint colourful
blobs on the winter’s canvas
Their jolly laughter echoing in the still air outsmarting the season’s dullness and
defying the dreary weather
They run and frolic through the mist
hurrying onwards dispelling the gloom
By Julia Anstey (Batheaston NWR)