Deep red the bracken

I have news for you.
The stag bells, winter snows, summer is gone.
Wind high and cold, the sun low, short its course
The sea running high.
Deep red the bracken, its shape is lost
The wild goose has raised its accustomed cry
Cold has seized the birds’ wings
Season of ice
This is my news.


Said to have been written by a 9th century Irish monk. 
No stags here but can you see the sheep grazing high up among the rocks? Extra reveals them closer up.