Winter Walk

The winter morning's mist dampens our way

And shuts off all the view across the heath.

A solitary tree atop a ridge

Startles, its charcoal pencilled lines

Etched across a water-colour blur

As we drift away from Battle Hill.

Claggy footpaths topped with rotting oak

And birch, slow us down, giving time

To contemplate the days that lie ahead;

Solstice celebrations with a clutch

Of children and grand-children, all enthused

At simply being together for a change.

            By afternoon the sun is bright and clear

            And promises a safe end to our year.

Brian Hick December 2009

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