Claggy Bottom
A careless foot breaks the beauty
of the frosted, icy
puddle:
what was smooth, with air bubbles
creating different shades of white,
fractures and cracks into splinters.
The water begins to leach through;
The purity of the untouched, darkens with
cold, uncaring liquid seeping
towards the sky, only
To be frozen once again.
Spring is a memory only.
We are locked into frost.
The shadows are growing
Zebra striping the fields,
White Frost, black shadow, trees,
Looming ever more threateningly
In the fading light.
Footprints, not of boots
But of hares leave echoes
Of play or escape
As they criss- cross
The ploughed, whitened, hillside.
Dark is closing now
The frost will harden still more
closing the landscape for the night.
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