We welcome in, the burning cold of dawn.
This tablecloth of lace, sans permanence.
This brittle bridal blanket, o'er the lawn,
though unexpected, cannot cause offence.
Else-wise, why did the spider spin that web
Which stands out like the strings upon a harp
Till sunlight flow and frosty tide will ebb
Till then, each breath's intake is biting sharp
No cloud, nor breeze to break this magic spell
As Black Cwm, capped and aproned, seems to smile
In smugness of a job she deems, done well
Surveys her Lakeland's many silver miles.
More focussed through the crisp air, views are lighter
I wake to dawns like these, and all is brighter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a lovely piece of writing Danny I was lost in the imagery of it all. Beautiful to read and it is going to my favourites which I so enjoy re- reading frequently.