It’s early and deadly still. The best part of the day. I can see my neighbour on the hill checking her sheep. It’s the same lane, the same field but in the morning frost, this dawn creates another world.
Later, the wind will whip up a little and the sun will fill up these shadows with light. For now the long dark tree trunks cast black lace onto the horizon.
I startle the heron as she waits at the edge of the lake. The robin nestles in the crook of her hawthorn.
It doesn’t last too long, this newness of the day. I breath it in, and although the feet are frosty the heart is light.