Still winter but not actually that cold, hovering around freezing.

A good excuse to celebrate all things winter in poetry.

which can of course be done mostly from inside.

“If I could walk out into the

cold country

And see the white and innocent dawn arise:”



“If I could walk over stubble

Fields white with frost

And see each separate small beaded blade”

Both quotes tak en from

                    If I Could Walk Out Into A Cold Country

                                              Elizabeth  Brewster