Sonnet II – The Snowy Field
My footfalls soft upon the snowy ground
Alone, the field is empty and too still.
I sought for springtime warmth, what have I found?
Lips numbed by biting wind, hands white and chill.
The stream in icy spate still rushes on
Past head-bowed flowers weighted down with snow.
The ice encrusted buds; their joy has gone,
They struggle ‘gainst this cold unbidden foe.
The sky is overcast and leaden grey,
From hedgerow now the bird’s song sounds forlorn.
He sings alone – who should have mate today,
Too cold to woo, his hopes have died stillborn.
I thought that spring had warmed my heart but then,
Cold winter’s hand hath frozen all again.