For the Earth.

Snow light reflecting up to a pale grey sky.

Sparrows in a cotton wool avalanche lining up on a sprung bare branch for bread.

The telephone wires rebound flinging the last balance of white onto the road.

In the thickest snow, cat tracks show where they have wallowed belly deep in the yielding mass.

All the mud and darkness is covered over.

Clean and made anew again.

All is white. All white.

Brief and innocently lovely in a January evening.