This poem is one of four based on the seasons of the year. Each one has a different tempo and structure. I started by choosing one word to summarise each season. So, winter is stillness, spring is frenetic, summer is slow, and autumn is languid. These reflect the pace of the season and the atmosphere of the poem. I hope it has worked. Let me know in the comments. The others are in older posts. Starvelarks Wood is the remnant of a sweet chestnut plantation in Thundersley, Essex.
A cold
winter in Starvelarks Wood
Silent stands the frozen wood,
A stillness filled with leaden air.
No creature stirs among its roots,
But the angel of despair.
Snow falls softly through leafless limbs,
Laden with that heavy fall.
The chattering nuthatch rarely sings,
No one to hear her call.
A fox’s bark, a streak of red,
Echoes through the naked copse.
A flash of grey, the vole is dead,
Her cubs will eat her corpse.
A barn owl looks upon that sight.
She must live and feed her young.
Indifferent to that creature’s plight,
Her chance will sometime come.
A rushing winds, painful bight,
A moment filled with fear.
Then she’s gone and out of sight,
Nature sheds no tear.
The muffled sound of falling snow,
Lands softly on the forest floor.
How long, how long ‘till winter goes,
And spring is at the door.
Copyright, Christopher Mathews, July 2026
A well painted picture Chris
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