An Early Walk

The People's Friend Special - - CONTENTS -

by El­iza Bar­ret

in the hills as a light rain was fall­ing, As through soft-fo­cus lenses the land­scape was viewed, The dawn had just bro­ken, the coun­try­side wak­ing, I felt I should tip­toe, so not to in­trude.

The sky slowly paled on the eastern hori­zon, The hill­tops were blurred by the cloud cling­ing there, My fin­gers were frozen, my breath pooled be­fore me And hung for a while in the raw, win­ter air.

A soli­tary bird was be­gin­ning his singing, The cob­webs hung heavy and sag­ging with rain, But a chink in the clouds gave the prom­ise of hope As I made my way home on the wet, rut­ted lane.

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