Walk With Me

Walk with me a while in the winter sunshine, with muddied boots and a low slung sun snatching at the bone bare branches of the hedgerow. Where decay and new growth exist side by side, old man’s beard heavy with rain and hazel catkins sparkle in a clear blue sky. The ivy offers berries to the lone blackbirds and desire paths lie unimpeded through the hawthorn and brambles. Kick up the dead leaves of autumn and feel the cold wind tighten the skin of your face and the rivulets of involuntary briny tears.