Cold Morning in Borrowdale
On the frozen, silent valley floor, all wire is barbed
with tiny frost-spikes of pure cold light.
The dead grasses, too, have white frost-thorns
that melt and vanish under a finger’s touch.
The mist rises and the valley breathes clear.
Clouds now screen the sky: through a gap
a narrow silo of sunlight slants earthward
as if God is beaming up a faithful prophet.
David McVey lectures in Communication at New College Lanarkshire. He has published over 100 short stories and a great deal of non-fiction that focuses on history and the outdoors. He enjoys hillwalking, visiting historic sites, reading, watching telly, and supporting his home-town football team, Kirkintilloch Rob Roy FC.