One day in the dead of winter,
After an unsettled night
During severe depression,
I wake up and hear in my mind
"You have to go for a walk'
From a voice that was not mine.
So I go looking for the wilderness,
With a picnic and storms threatening.
Heading down into the dark,
I stroke feathery moss neon bright,
See so much alive and vibrant
Growing from the ground.
I grab strong branches,
With old ivy clinging.
Hanging on like a toddler
Wrapped around its mother,
On roots tiny like centipede's legs.
Giving a coat of green,
That will smother when leaves appear.
As ivy ages the leaves change;
From sharp, pointed,
they become softer and round.
they become softer and round.
I creep deeper and deeper into a forest,
Climbing through straggly roots
And spongy leaves,
Making sure I'm completely hidden.
Surely it's unlikely
There will be psychos hiding out here?
I see a small furry creature
Dash into his front door,
Afraid of me.
I say, "hello" to him
And hope he doesn't mind
Me peeing in his front garden.
Me peeing in his front garden.
Did you know
It is possible to feel the summer in winter?
You don't have to worry
About saving every last penny
About saving every last penny
To escape to a place in the sun!
Sitting at home miserable,
Cursing the weather to hell,
Moaning about it
To anyone who'll listen.
When you walk a long way
Your body warms you.
In the dull light, the sun shines
In the bright orange bark
Of a sawn off log,
Bumpy rings rippling outwards.
A threatening roar,
Turns out to be a stream overflowing,
Rushing and crashing with energy:
Exciting!
Following it,
To see where it goes,
Charging effortlessly down,
Cascading over a ledge,
With a hidden cave underneath,
To trickle an awkward path,
Through boulders and pebbles,
Towards the ever present sea:
Still today.
Trying to climb
A bumpy hill in the mud
Is a challenge.
Forces you onto your hands
and knees sometimes,
Scrambling like a beetle,
Laughing at myself.
My dog dances up
Much more elegantly.
I watch the way he goes
And follow knowing,
It's probably the most sensible path.
I emerge innocent and happy,
Passing the only other traveller
I say, "lovely day".
He replies, "Scottish eh?"
Makes me laugh:
Mad dogs and a Scottish woman
Out in the winter mist.
Sitting at the peak
Eating a cheese and pickle roll
(My dog whinging for handouts)
A crow hangs above us noisily,
Swirling and diving.
My dog furious now,
Bounces around growling angrily.
I'm thankful for my loyal spaniel.
The sky darkens, I'm getting cold,
Time to go home.
Walking across the field shoe gazing,
I'm stomping through tiny chocolate drops.
The place is covered in rabbit poo.
Much worse than our grey streets;
Filthy piles of it everywhere,
Gets everyone raging
And putting posters in their windows,
A bright yellow bark of disapproval,
"I say NO to dog fowling!".
Good for you!
I wonder what you would say
In the country,
When you're up to your knees in it?
"Lovely day"
You would probably say.
In honour of Rabbie Burns and the Combe Haven Defenders:
http://combehavendefenders.wordpress.com/
