Winter song.

A horse gallops past in the field next door, sets a thundering tempo, counting in a chorus of dissonant crows in the tall beech trees down the hill. A train in the distance pulls into the station, its plaintive horn ushers in a great commotion from a donkey beyond the trees. Rustlings of small animals amongst the stalks of spent thistles. A swans wingbeat overhead. Songs for a quiet day, unremarkable, unnnoticed by those indoors. The blue tits trembling insistence twinkles above it all, lifting the music to the roof of the soft, grey sky.