Cold constitutional

On the ice-edge of the hill

Gazing down grateful from verge of valley,

Coming in across country, a splinter of winter –

My feet hold fields.

And today, I saw the sun so wonderfully die,

The land turn black, crisp cutout trees clutching stricken stars,

My Ordnance Survey filled –

Dry moats overjumped, fallen houses seen, old stories

Stopped, pinned in place – “There is one surviving tower…”

Behind lie iron miles,

Silver-gilded soil and waiting woods, locked churches, ways

Silent and significant. The frost flakes flowers.

Now a great and universal chill –

Over unforgiving earth beasts bump their prize away,

Next year’s crops parade with glinting points, owls blink away hours.