A Woodland In Winter

It’s stillness in the field,
Apart from the bird that searches
For his food.
And the grass becomes crisp
With every tread.
And soft snow flakes
That tickle your face,
Yet leave little trace.

It’s the absence of leaves,
An eerie picture card envisaged bare.
And from branches fair.
The sky above like sepia,
With transcending light.
See buzzards soar
As they swoop to see
A vole there for tea.

And mammals sleep deep,
Down in nests away from the cold,
Only to dance in spring.
But the squirrels will hunt
To bury acorns,
As berries drop
For finches fine,
And there hope will shine.
A woodland in winter
Is a step into spring.

By Tanya Fillbrook

bird sitting on a branch of rowan in the snow.

author photo Tanya Fillbrook writes nature poetry and articles because she is passionate about the environment.

Photo by alekiss