Here is a very seasonally accurate poem by the grand woman herself.
A Frosty Morning
When the sun hangs low in the eastern sky,
Caught in the trees that shiver and shy,
Red as the robin that flits nearby,
Sing hey, for a frosty morning!
When the lane is a-glitter beneath our feet,
Powered with crystal, delicate, sweet,
And the quiet pond is a silver sheet,
Sing hey, for a frosty morning!
Come out, come out, while the sky is red,
Over the crunching fields to tread,
Ere the frost in the kindling sun lies dead,
Sing, hey for a frosty morning!
Fiona
pippastef
worldofblyton
Thank you for the lovely poem. I do hope you are better soon.
Many regards
Francis
LikeLike
Hope you are feeling better. I’m looking forward to your review of Finniston Farm. You may remember I reviewed it last year as my favourite Five (a controversial choice, I know!) so I’ll be interested to know how you rate it.
Chris
LikeLike