After a journey over the Derbyshire hills when Winter itself seemed to take shape and form, this was how I remembered it. A place of utter beauty and totally unforgiving. It was so enchanting, even though we had to drive really slowly to avoid skidding, I couldn’t take my eyes off the world around me.
A DERBYSHIRE WINTER
Yesterday, we met that great icicled old man, Winter,
Striding across the tops of the Derbyshire peaks,
Flinging furious fists of snow on to the roads,
Stones, dips, hollows and hedgerows.
The hills and fields were bone white,
And white to the bone where he had passed.
Even the bleak and edgy rocks had given in,
Hiding their lovely blackness
Out of sight of the old man’s fury.
For who knew what he would do next?
Too late! He’s done it.
That tree standing alone in the emptiness
Should have shown a bit more respect.
Bowed its aching head
Under the snowy crown he had given it,
But somehow it shook the snow off instead.
And that great icicled old man spat spiteful
Gobbets of icy breath across it
Until, for one brief and beautiful moment,
The tree shone and dazzled in the thin sun,
Then broke under the old terror’s icy gift and was gone.
Oh, winter, you could have pity on us.
You could pity the owl and the crow,
The mouse, the fox, the shrew and the stoat.
You could pity the glancing beauty of the dying fish
Striking up through the frozen water.
But you won’t, will you?
Even though you could afford to.
For such splendour and icy glory,
So enchanting it catches the breath
And causes the heart to fall back,
Will never willingly leave these peaks
To the wind and rumpled grass.
© 2018 Gwen Grant

To Sam, the fox is the enemy – it steals his hens.
To Roberta, it is a beautiful wild creature in need of protection.
The mystery of a stolen tiara brings the two children and the
fox together in a strange sequence of events. A country setting
and fascinating glimpse into the ways of foxes.
Available on KINDLE and DRAFT2DIGITAL.
This got me in the mood for winter!
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Glad you liked the poem but that day was stone cold as if warmth would never be felt again!
Gwen.
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Oh my God! Wow!
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Are you sure that’s you, Balladeer?! Being so emotive isn’t like you at all and neither is the language you’re using! Well, we’ll see.
Gwen.
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wonderfully written metaphoric poem —
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Another cracker, Gwen! Yet again!!!
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You do convey the harshness of the day. I spent time in Southern Illinois in winter back in the 80’s and I remember some punishing, outlier freezes. I love this in particular: “the glancing beauty of the dying fish.”
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Thanks again, Sharon. What you say is much appreciated.
Gwen.
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You are very welcome Gwen!
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Thank you so much.
Gwen.
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Yep, it’s me! Sorry if I seemed out of sorts!
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