Creeping silent freezing mist
Coats the grass with crystals strewn,
Then drifts along the shining river
In the icy light of a bright white moon.
The ghostly call of an unseen fox
Seeking a mate on the snowclad fell,
Is heard twice more, then fades with distance
Like the last peeled toll of the church yard bell. Brown, brittle, see through hedgerows
Bent low by clumps of clinkered frost,
Now offer no protection
Her outer armour lost.
There is no sign of movement
Nor is there hint of life,
The very heart of nature
Cut deep by Winters scythe.
The forest tall and empty
Leaves stripped bare by the east winds blow,
Waits patiently for Springs warm breath to awaken
The sleeping seeds below. John Eccles, Junction Road, Bolton
Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
Comments: Our rules
We want our comments to be a lively and valuable part of our community - a place where readers can debate and engage with the most important local issues. The ability to comment on our stories is a privilege, not a right, however, and that privilege may be withdrawn if it is abused or misused.
Please report any comments that break our rules.
Read the rules hereComments are closed on this article