December in Auchencairn

Snow sweeps down the hill like frozen cloud

Rock face houses,

stand firm against the ice and wind

Moody, snow creating caves

harbouring soft flesh,

warm and grateful for the shelter

A hideaway home

A deep exhale

Protected from the grey, blue, pink wonder

Of a snow stranded twililght evening

engulfing and silencing

every living thing.

Jan Ashford 

www.shorehamwordfest.com