The day so mild there is no weather there: no wind, no rain, no snow, no storm, all is still and quiet, warm. We are in feast in these days, at our ease before the fast returns in bleak January. Four lady pheasants were foraging before my window today when I drew the curtain - such large birds, such delicate moves as they pick and peck their way in undergrowth, on the beds. It is odd to say that all is well: we are warm and fed.next poem