Treasure Island

Robert Dummett


On First Looking Onto Wintry Fields


Caught in the paucity of winter,
Sheep huddle in lacquered fields
Where clouds net the icy smell,
And earth is clad in chequered shadow.

Lichen spirals a fallen tree
Filigreed with frost;
The religious beech
Bends its leaves like bowed heads at prayer,
And matted moss clings to marshes
Cloven by a roe-deer's hoof.

The dog-fox pauses......listening -
A sparrow hawk swings, wide and silent,
And the land lies passionless
In a quilt of smoking snow.

Submitted: Thursday, June 01, 2006
Edited: Friday, June 02, 2006
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Comments about this poem (On First Looking Onto Wintry Fields by Robert Dummett )

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  • Sandra Fowler (6/1/2006 6:45:00 AM)

    Praise for your wonderful winter poem. I love the imagery in this one.

    Kindest regards,

    Sandra (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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