The mist shrouded fields,
And trees frosted with whiteness,
For this winter’s walk.
There’s a robin’s song,
Somewhere in amongst the trees,
He is hiding well.
I walk a dirt track,
Through the fields and the forest,
To the cold still lake,
The ducks greet me there,
‘Any food for us today friend?’
But I have nothing.
I walk slowly home,
A golden cord holding me,
Making me walk tall.
