Between unwelcome winter
And thoughts of spring There is a null half-space
Where the world stills
In clear, cold mornings
Under newly waning moon
Exiting to hard won dawn
With slanting shafts of sunlight
The rising low sun reaches out
To the frosty ground
In these fleeting days of burnt colours
We hear autumn’s slowing heartbeat
It becomes a time for reflection
Through a looking glass
Of frosty hindsight thawing doubt
