For the robin, no perch here.
Across the field
mournful cattle low.
Too cold, the dark end of the year.
Soft hues of Eire
earth-brown, grass-green, sky-blue,
overcome by stark monochrome.
but the sun’s rays fail
to pull the beast from my home.
Silent falls the snow,
No choice but to endure.
Yet the trees hold up strong branches for more.