Beech leaves, beech tree, fagus sylvaticia l., covered in hoarfrost, switzerland
Here’s something simple, accessible but evocative, to match the increasingly-shorter days and the cold snap we have been experiencing.
What stuck in my mind, from all the poems I’ve read over the years? The idea of the icy wind being like ‘frosty pepper’ – how lovely is that?
Winter-Time, by Robert Louis Stevenson.
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.