In the split woods a broken sapling, Cold catkins that I stoop below. Explosion of a blackbird’s wings Kicks up exclamatory snow. Silence, the burden of the song, Resumes where winds have blasted through. The white fields swell to the dark sky, The matrix they are frozen to. Stopped in my fiftieth winter’s track I see the maze a March hare ran. This wilderness supports a hare; It also may support a man.
Sydney Tremayne was an Ayrshire-born Scotsman whose working life was spent in England as a journalist, largely in London as a newspaperman in hectic Fleet Street, though his poetry often reflects quietly upon the complexities of the natural world.Read more about this poet