A fierce winter;
the coldest for many years.
Here in the village
the air hurts.
It is minus 27C.
Wrens are crammed
into an old hamster box
under the eaves of the lean-to.
They are shuffling constantly.
In the morning
taking out the ashes, I find
eleven corpses
below the box.
Inside, still shuffling survivors
struggle for warmth.
Tonight it will be cold again.