It was icy as I crossed the burn, the planks creaking and shifting, echoing the murmurs of awakenings. Geese stirred the breeze overhead, and I could discern a Curlew, hungrily harvesting the mud below, aware of me rustling past. The light grew, and I crunched my way around the unyielding tussocks beneath the wooden piles, looking for the angle to complete my vision of bridge, burn, trees and the hoped-for sun rise. There was time to pause, to wait. The same curlew could still be heard, piercing the frost out on the marsh, near silent hummings narrating any success of its gather. A gull silently gliding above. Ducks passing, not hiding their delight. Away to the west the city lights areoutlining the hills, and to the east the naked trees are backlit and stark.
A long, frigid, darkness is ending. Life emerges again.