Choices by Mary Lapworth

Low winter light does not enter the room

What was I going to do today?

With no plans made......I may as well sit

Just wishing my time away..

And what was the point, of getting up at all!

The radio drones on but I'm not listening.

No appointments to keep,

No people to meet,

I'm frozen, inert in the gloom.

Low winter light does not penetrate the room

But I pull on a coat to go out.

Wind blows the rain into my eyes

Colours blur.....ochre, sepia, gray.

Striding up the hill to Winterborne,

Feet cold but body w arm.

I hear the wild calls of the red kites

And I am lifted......so glad to be out.

I breathe deeply and anticipate my journey home....

For hot buttered crumpets and Earl Grey tea.