Winter

Snow wind-whipt to ice Under a hard sun: Stream-runnels curdled hoar Crackle, cannot run. Robin stark dead on twig, Song stiffened in it: Fluffed feathers may not warm Bone-thin linnet: Big-eyed rabbit, lost, Scrabbles the snow, Searching for long-dead grass With frost-bit toe: Mad-tired on the road Old Kelly goes; Through crookt fingers snuffs the air Knife-cold in his nose. Hunger-weak, snow-dazzled, Old Thomas Kelly Thrusts his bit hands, for warmth ’Twixt waistcoat and belly.