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A Winter Walk
by
Bob Fenner

Through crusty grass crunching beneath our feet.
Through misty vales a ridge we cannot see.
Breathing crisp, cold air makes a brisk heartbeat.
Walking onwards spirits are full of glee.

Now a muddy path, then a sodden field.
Creep under barbed wire, struggle over stiles.
Marsh-like paths whose challenge well not yield
As onwards we go in ways most virile.

Through a herd of baying cows I wriggle.
Then scramble up a slope of sharp brambles
That scratch my butt and all behind do giggle.
A bit of fun on our weekly ramble.

Its oft cold and harsh on our winter walk,
But its better to do than sit and talk.


Bob Fenner