A signposted track beneath a stormy-grey sky,
The hopeful bright blue, peeking through.
A slight drizzle dribbles, till dark clouds pass by.
Steadily treading along the tufted grassy path,
We are sheltered from showers under trees.
We struggle over roots and the muddy aftermath.
Across fields of cows watching, we are rambling
over slippery wooden style to grey gravelling,
onto the beaten stone and mud tracks unravelling.
Then under branches, back into a wooded bower,
Just in time before a torrential down pour,
Against the trees we cling to avoid the heavy shower.
Cowering beneath the trees, beneath the leaves,
We shelter briefly as best as we can,
And wait till the heaven brighten in the breeze.
Walk out to reveal the luscious fields of green,
a damp wind and distant misty impression,
behind, the path to show where we have been.
In front the man-made path through rumpled grass,
We make our way ahead through farmers’ fields,
Over styles, through hedges and gates we pass.
Beside the lanes the random growth of flowers instead
of thistles, stinging nettles and swaying grasses,
The joy of colour of wild flowers in their watered beds.
To the horizon, to dips and climbing hills,
tired, we traipse the endless winding trail,
back to the car. A satisfied walk, an outdoor thrill.