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A sharp frost
And the surface is slipping
All the lights are red
And the whole world
Comes to a stop.
Some might say that
There's nowhere to go
And nothing to see
In this sea of mist
Even the Kestrel
has tired of her hover
And waits at the top
Of her telegraph pole
And the grumpy pheasant
Finds it unpleasant
But I can hear the Curlew calling
And the lark
Above it all
Revelling in secret sunshine
Telling me there is no need to wait
For the light to change

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