Rose sky where the steam rose
Out of the cloud machine,
Mist sank where the ground froze
Perfecting winter’s scene,
Two deer in stubble stood
Scenting the laden air,
Red sun dropped behind Drax
Leaving a strange despair
Made manifest in blacks
Against the fog, the crows,
Mad rags of night let out
An hour before its time,
Soot smuts dappled about,
Arguing, as the rime
Grew on thin twigs between
Patches of air, condensed.
A rough dog, barged into sight
And breaking the spell recommenced
His oafish, canine show of might
Putting up pheasants through the wood.
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