Ist of January, in Berkhamsted

The first day of the new year
quietly comes to life
not much wind to speak of
the suns rays like a knife
cut into the morning
and golden light we see
picking out the weathered bark
of almost every tree
a wood pigeon his collar
resplendent in the light
pretty fat this fellow
he really looks al’right
clearly there is food enough
and a lovely clear blue sky
some wind now at low level
trying to apply
some movement in the garden plants
that dance in front of me
the grasses and the wilder ones
all happy as can be