Fay Slimm.

Chill.

 

 

Chill.

 

Holding a crown of snow today

old golden fern-heads

poke their glass gowns into wind-blow

and stiff-stalked they wait

in moor-land chill for slow melting. 

Warmth starts down below 

when roots begin moves to unveil

flow of curled ringlets 

which fingers of Spring yearn to open.