The sound strengthened.
Looking towards the narrow road where a large HGV lost of all co-ordinates was expected to be found, there was nothing but the bleakness of blankness.
Listening again, my ears turned themselves upwards into the bare morning sky reflecting the off-white frosting’s below. Standing still tucked between my wellington boots and crunching’s of icicles, I did so as the sound gathered itself like that of a prehistoric dinosaur and then suddenly as if falling from a hidden pocket in the sky, there they were right above my head.
Two grey heron flying side by side, their combined wingspan greater than the breadth of the road nearby. Their wings noising together, their heads bobbing as they loudly croaked to one another. All the while I stood beneath them spellbound, staring up into their grey torso’s the way in which a magician captures an audience before POOF, they were gone.