With frost on the roofs in the mornings, it feels like winter has arrived. It is nice to see the bare, intricate branches of the trees against the sky again. Not to mention the snowmen, reindeer, Santa Clauses, and (occasionally) penguins standing on the porches and lawns, aglow from within. The world is as it ought to be: clear and sharp and cheerful. For a while, for a while.
On the eaves
A robin sings, with berry eyes
And breast redder than the dead leaves
Dangling his notes like beads,
A luminous, tinkling string.
A robin sings in the evening,
Under smoky December skies --
And so would I sing.
In the sky
A star shines on the kerb of day.
The waking night from light-bleared eye
With one clear, glowing tear is weeping,
Dipping its lids to mine.
A star shines in the dusk,
Not frosted yet by the Milky Way --
And so would I shine.
Norman Nicholson, Rock Face (1948).
"Winter Landscape, Liberton, Edinburgh" (c. 1925)