I love the cottage garden at winter twilight.
Gently into warm greys the light fades.
The kitchen window burns with an inviting orange light.
And here spring up everywhere mysterious and deepening shades.

The high pheasant squawks noisily.
The dog enjoys a last prowl and with his canine ghosts a tussle.
I look forward to hot tea and crumpets happily and yes perhaps a bit greedily.
With no wind today the trees do not rustle.

The warm yellows and browns are fading slowly.
The trees are still and increasingly bare.
I can walk into my home from the nearby wood easily.
The fox is watching perhaps, lying in his lair.

And in this lovely Wold valley place all about is profound silence.
I am utterly alone with only calm thoughts for guidance.