Winter sunrise

A thin winter shimmer clung to the hill,

the kind of frost that hushes the world

and makes every breath feel borrowed.

Pontypool Folly stood waiting in the night

Its stone shoulders stand definitely against the cold,

waiting for the light.

Then the sun lifted, slow, deliberate,

a glowing ember rising behind the Folly

and the lonely beech that keeps it company.

Light spilt between bare branches,

threading gold through the frozen grass,

and for a moment, the whole chilly ridge

felt like it exhaled.

Up there, watching the day ignite.

You could believe the world still remembers,

how to surprise you, quietly, brilliantly

one frosty sunrise at a time.

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