I’ve been quiet for a few weeks on this blog as work, life and the festive season caught up with me. New entries are brewing, however, and will follow shortly
But this week winter has really hit here in the hills and after an eventful drive home last night, I have had a day of meetings at home while stepping out into a bright winter day with the hills white, roads closed and that sense of precious, dramatic stillness that comes with snow. It will probably not last – the roads are clear again, and footpaths are thawing – but for this day it has been glorious
And reminds me of a poem I wrote a few years ago now and the sense of impending witner and the stillness it can bring
Falling into gold, and yellow, and russet,
As mist gathers,
Wool unravelled through the trees.
In the hollow dales,
The lake anticipates winter,
And the rune-cracked ice.
But for now,
Its dark, cold reflective depth
Is divination enough
Poem is in the book Old stones and ancient bones