A quiet church in winter

The fox, startled, fled back through the gap in the churchyard wall, following its deep set paw prints through the snow and across the road to disappear into the trees on the other side. Meanwhile, above, the bright moon was chased away by an advancing cloud that turned the gloss-black sky a matte grey. Snow started falling, light at first, but then faster and heavier and the church was lost to view. The man hunkered down inside his warm coat, pulled his hat down to his eyes and retreated to his flat and a steaming cup of tea.