When fogged white land scratches the sky
Two worlds become one, no beginning or end.
From peaks where eagles soar
unsure, uncertain, above, below
laden twigged bushes shiver with cold
Naked woods clamber, evergreens stood tall.
In open fields, hares hop about
While Doe and Deer scratch around
As if the Lords of this icy land.
Structured vineyards stand to attention
Keeping order in their rows
Guarding through frost and snow
Holding posts, waiting to grow
As horses hide in any shelter,
Chimneys smoke, puff and bellow.
Meanwhile, mouse yawns in his hidey hole,
Unaware of cold unknown
For it is not time to hunt and seek,
Winter is the time for sleep!
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