Winter walking

'Winter walking' by Rosie Adamson-Clark

Walking in solitude,
Heartbeat heavy, pulse,
The steady rustle of wind
In the sorrowful trees
Bent to the growing
Demands of the elements.

Diastolic, Systolic, the beat,
Beat of footfall on a muddy
Path,
Autumn made way for winter,
An overcoat colder,
Solitude.
Alone winter traveller walks
Towards another winter
Solstice
The mossy skin on boulders
A welcome seat, breath raw
Words are stolen into vapours.

Silence is not the absence of sound,
Birdsong, cat call… watching,
Acorn drop whisper as the stream
Babbles past, at last,
Coat pulled closer into a now
Frozen body,

A longing gaze towards the light
At the end of the woodland track,
Hurrying home, puddle water
Dirty path, splashing cord
Clinging trews, the image of
Kettle with rising song and jangling
Lid.

Quaking, warm air draws us nearer the emergence
Of light, a jewel in the winter dark space,
Communion without words or wine over,
A satisfied smile glows on a seasoned
Tired face.

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