An Early Walk
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.