Looking For A Sunset Bird In Winter

The west was getting out of gold,
The breath of air had died of cold,
When shoeing home across the white,
I thought I saw a bird alight.

In summer when I passed the place
I had to stop and lift my face;
A bird with an angelic gift
Was singing in it sweet and swift.

No bird was singing in it now.
A single leaf was on a bough,
And that was all there was to see
In going twice around the tree.

From my advantage on a hill
I judged that such a crystal chill
Was only adding frost to snow
As gilt to gold that wouldn't show.

A brush had left a crooked stroke
Of what was either cloud or smoke
From north to south across the blue;
A piercing little star was through.

(Robert Frost - my favourite poet!)

Crisp winter morning walk with the dogs, light frost and possibly snow on the ground. The snow on its way for sure (it's here now!!)
Playing with trees and light but a quick hand held shot of this wee chap in a tree with the new lens came out surprisingly better than I anticipated and reminded me of a Japanese Art phase I went through at the same time as I discovered Robert Frost....