Forest of dean

A gold and purple sunrise
Permitting of a scene
Out of some great classic novel
Instead across the green
Forest where the river wye
Is angrily in flood
Savaging the rocks below
Which invigorates the blood

Imbolc we have reached that point
With frost hung on the bough
Wet and feeling feisty
Asking ourselves how
We go about collecting
The ewes milk rich with cream
And ensure our lambs are fortified
In an ever flowing stream.

Down into the earths bowels
The caverns hewn from time
Where iron has been extracted
Where labourers would climb
Their task to sweat and ponder
To dig into the rock
Its here we have our ritual
The Cotswold Order flock