A Winter Walk
Through crusty grass crunching beneath
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 we’ll 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.
It’s oft cold and harsh on our winter walk,
But it’s better to do than sit and talk.