Short Rations (Poetry)

A line of trees along the field’s cold edge
sap stiffened by December’s freezing air
about their roots small pockets of grey sedge
and nothing stirs the branches bleak and bare

Drab Winter bleeds all colour from the scene
the landscape etched severe in black and white
while earth preserves the future’s promised green
such days are rationed short through lack of light

More snow to come — it’s written in the sky
though subtle in its warning some can tell
by watching homeward rooks — the way they fly
a change in pressure plus a sharper smell

The afternoon waits patient — there’s no rush
the dark will bring whatever weather throws
all Nature sleeps — no sound disturbs the hush
as through the trees a washy sunset glows