A blanket covers fields and streams, Stitched finely with gold thread. As night descends we sink in dreams, In patchwork caves of bed. The winter hills and earth and trees, though simple dark and bare, Are sheltering the mystic creatures Snowy owl and winter hare. A glimpse is all it takes to know We aren’t here all alone. That fur and hoof and feathered beasts, Are slinking back to home. A frozen face, weary from storm Patient winter cannot sleep. Her eyes are sharp her cloak is warm, Her shelter hard but deep. With years of life and etched in time, Her fields and hedgerows stand. Embracing tiny babies With her gnarled and gentle hand. In beds of straw and hay and scraps, All stolen from the yard. The mothers strive to keep at bay A winter long and hard. And with a wing and paw and nose The outside pushed aside, 'Til spring time scent wafts nest and air, They curl and snooze and hide. And all we see is cold bleak earth, No colour life and sound. Imagine all the hidden hearts, Still beating underground.