November Dawn In Northwood
NOVEMBER DAWN IN NORTHWOOD
Nature’s fan turns
Where winter has dramatised the trees.
Beside the drive
Dropped leaves are cupped with frost.
In six o’clock light
Thin songs are jerky, interrupted
Of birds’ beaks amid ruffled sleepy feathers.
The milkman’s step.
Gravel crunches up the drive.
Suspended above is quiet.
The holly is still as the wind drops.
The bang of glass bottles
Against the step.
The faint sigh as the float slips into life.
And disappears …