My beloved Malvern Hills,
the winter so cold; so still.
The Snow Bunting and the Robin;
standing brave against the chill.
Snow falling; snow drifting,
sledges slipping and sliding.
Heads bowed as if in hiding;
with hats and scarves of every hue
jackets and coats; old and new,
with one desire; The Beacons view.

By Jim Noond.