Lakeland dawns in February, the icing on the Kendal mint cake (Repost) br br We welcome in, the burning cold of dawn. br This tablecloth of lace, sans permanence. br This brittle bridal blanket, o’er the lawn, br though unexpected, cannot cause offence. br br Else-wise, why did the spider spin that web br Which stands out like the strings upon a harp br Till sunlight flow and frosty tide will ebb br Till then, each breath’s intake is biting sharp br br No cloud, nor breeze to break this magic spell br As Black Cwm, capped and apron’d, seems to smile br In smugness of a job she deems, done well br Surveys her Lakeland’s many silver miles. br br More focussed through the crisp air, views are lighter br I wake to dawns like these, and all is brighter.