Went to bed with anticipation.
Woke to the eerie silence,
That means the outside sounds,
Are softly muted by white powdery snow.
No traffic on the road,
And no morning chorus of birdsong.
It is a reverent time.
The paddocks are yet to have their pure surface,
Pockmarked by animals' pads, hooves and claws.
My yard wears a clean crisp sheet.
In bed I snuggle down,
In the knowledge that my route to work,
Will be impassable.
Let the children sleep in.
There will be time enough for their,
Excited, cold, saturating play.
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