Winter-Clad.
Tell me a winter-clad tale
of lanes ice-coated, pools
with floating fish in grasp
of sudden death, of misty
twilight\'s snow-blind cold
veiling sheep-dotted hills
and covering food of wind
howling in non-stop blast
on farmland and holdings.
Tell me of frosty-backed
cattle in safety\'s low stall
chewing cold cud, of fields
thigh-high in drifts, flakes
wildly piled around frozen
seedlings of stiffened rods,
of tough farming breeds at
hard spade-labour digging
in search of buried ewes,
of bleating lambs\' hunger,
of calves losing a mother
in the stumble to milking,
of log-ovens kept warmly
heating black potted gruel
when all jobs are finished.
Tell me the story of never
say No when a going gets
tough, of folk whose hold
on tomorrow shines with
faith\'s star of hope, when
after bad-weather losses
shrugs of wide shoulders
just fastens worn jackets
and hatted steps forward
raw fingered yet willing
and ready despite freeze
of winter to battle again.
Clad in strongest resilience
such men and their women.