A western front has laid us low,               

now sunny aspect for the snow,               

while frozen cape

protects bowed head    

where buzzard swooped,

left pigeon dead. 

Skeletal tree beneath the yews               

where youths cavort, take time to choose  

their victim in

a snowball dare;  

there misty air,

like dragon flare    

leaves wispy clouds, soon disappeared.     

This holy hilltop commandeered,   

ground unsoiled,

unsoled as yet, 

the blizzard stayed

just as the debt,

unknown, unrealised lest they   

weigh those fray bells, sleigh-play not slay.