Sly Reynard

Kieron Williamson | Oil on Board | 8 x 10 inches

“It was a bitterly cold Saturday morning, right in the middle of the big freeze that we had in December. Luckily, this view was just down the narrow country lanes close to where I live and so I decided to cycle. Now cycling in the ice isn’t a problem, unless you meet a car. Riding downhill at the same time as meeting a car proved to be quite tricky!
Thankfully any misfortune was avoided and I continued on my way. I found my spot and I started my painting. I then noticed two foxes down by the house, I must say I thought they were two pheasants at first.The two foxes came up the field, passed me and disappeared over the brow of the hill. Back they came a few minutes later and went into the
woods right in front of me. It was a lovely moment and I decided to write a poem about that painting and the frosty weather we had before Christmas:

I traipse with a yawn, in the first light of dawn,
Down icy roads so quaint.
With a nip at my ear and carrying my gear,
I look for somewhere to paint.
Through a copse of trees, where the pigs used to be,
Where jackdaws roost at night.
Just a little stroll, atop a little knoll,
With views across fields of white
My colours are laid and the canvas I saved
Is just perfect for this composition,
I take up my brush and I’m filled with a rush
And feel I’m in a winning position
Mixing colours that gleam, of orange and green,
I paint with ease just like talking,
But just as I begin, what have I seen?
But two foxes across the field walking!
With tails of red and masks half white,
So sly yet so bold,
Reynard and Charlie, scampering past me,
Just as in tales of old.
The morning now fades, into silvery shades,
As the sun creeps over the hill.
My painting is done, it’s course has been run,
I turn my collar to the chill.
What better way, to spend a winters day,
Than painting as much as I could.
Working all day, with no one to say
That what I’m painting’s no good!
I go painting on, because it will soon be gone,
The frosty light and haze.
Soon the rain, will be beating the panes,
In a blur of black and greys.

A winters afternoon, is over so soon,
Gone as quick as a flash,
Such afternoons, they banish the gloom,
The sun is a fleeting dash.
I amble alone, on my way back home,
My feet are completely frozen,
The sun sinks in the west, and is glad to rest,
As crows swirl in a commotion.
Skeins of geese, never cease
From dawn until eventide
In a sky of red, they pass over head
So effortlessly they glide
Each day and night, so merry and bright,
With painting and frost and holly,
Painting the light and drinking at night,
Making Christmases so jolly!
My thoughts drift on air to the table where,
My rum-scented drink is steaming,
It’s rich spicy smells, are casting their spells
And soon I will be dreaming!
A drink so bold it could kill a cold
And vapour could start a fire going!
Each sip warms my core, from my head to the floor,
And my face is rosy glowing
Feeling the heat from logs at my feet,
The fiery flames are glowing,
I rest in my chair and I do not care
If the north winds are blowing.
Through the curtain crease a moonbeam seeps
And falls by my feet on the floor,
Like an icy dagger that slowly creeps
And soon will be seen no more. Kieron


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