Dear reader,

The hills were cuttingly cold numbing my brain to a stupor
Powdered snow blew along the ground in cloudy drifts
The Cribbarth looked like a cut out - reduced to two tones
Grey and ochre

The garden defrosts and miraculously the daffodils lift up their heads

Cruelly cold - but as beautiful as a cut diamond refracting light
My lungs are sore from it
But out of the wind the sun begins the thaw

Beauty can be found here below the old coal tips
In the valleys where the mines were.



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