Horses and silk slips.

You might have seen a small figure in a large grey duffel coat and a small grey bowler hat scurrying along or you might have missed her .She did not linger.
I would say no one lingers in this cold but there is no one about.
All is silent as Christmas day .

Even the seabirds and sparrows are missing .

In the chilly gloom wisteria blossoms hang like icicles.

Put something down and it's almost painful to pick up .The cold has drawn inside it .
The same with your clothes .Back in the car. In a fold of the fabric you are wearing lurks an icy slice of cold. As you move it does too. Lurking and lingering before surprising you with an extra small slap of sub zero as you start to relax .

Each horse in the field stands waiting.
The trouble is that we have all been waiting  so long we are not even clear on what we are wait for.

Amongst the post this morning was a brochure of jaunty summer skirts ,silk slips and sandals - give them to a horse I don't want them.

But I do and you do. We want to sit companionably bare legged, clinking the ice in our glasses.
The Egyptians worshipped (amongst others ) a sun god. I'm not saying they were right or wrong, I'm just saying.