A Winter's Walk
by Annie Jenkin

Winter's low setting sun
casts light on skeletal branches,
refracting its golden glow
through fringed frail leaves
and clusters of holly berries
bring nature's own fairy lights.

No longer does a fat bumble bee
linger over clover, or bend
a cornflower under its weight.
Its buffet, now the delicate
cream and mauve bloom, peeking
through tightly packed ivy leaves.

Hidden gems reveal themselves
among naked branches:
A nighthawk perches motionless,
nuthatches nestling in holes,
and a windswept woodpecker
bravely digs out insects.

Crows, chacking and cawing
fill twilight skies—like torn black rags.
When stars twinkle, an owl glides
silently on long thin wings
as if rowing across the resting fields,
his sharp eyes searching out supper.

We walk wrapped in nature's shawl
awed by her wondrous display.

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