a winters morn

Doth dawn break ever silent over loose and falling stones.
The mountains white capped, majestic.
Greet the new day, reflecting snow.
In the low lands, shadows creeping, hear the chorus of the dawn.
Sheep lift their sleepy heads, humans stretch and yawn.
Grass is white and frosty.
Toes are warm and toasty.
This home is cold so light the fire.
The kettle on the boil.

Who brings the morning paper?
The news for all to read.
The baker boy that rides his bike, over hills and brooks alike.
The old man stirs his morning cup.
The heat that steams his specks.
The candle that was company.
Has burnt itself right out.

The cows that now need milking.
The hay that must be spread.
The eggs must be collected.
The household must be fed.
The day starts later every day.
And every day  it's colder.
It's harder to get out of bed.
Upon a winters morn.