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The Fallow Field

Across the winter’s land I gazed
Within the hue of morning light,
The fallow field of fallen snow
Lay hushed and still whilst bathed in white.

‘Twas framed by tree and bush alike
Each wore a speckled uniform,
As if they waited all in line
For God to breathe a breath so warm.

To send a thaw yet they must sleep
And dormant buds remain at rest,
Whilst leafy shadows just a dream
Till winter yields to spring’s request.

Yet at its centre like a spire
An oak rose from that frozen plain,
And stood against the pastel sky
Where melting snow did fall like rain.

For golden sunlight lit the boughs
Then lit the waiting fallow field,
And filled the morning then in song
Whilst there the sign of spring revealed.

An oval patch of emerald green
That dwelt beneath that wizened tree,
And every blade a blade of hope
The end of winter soon shall be.

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