Setting out at a steady pace
the warm spring breeze on my face
leaving behind the village sounds
to open my mind and look around
White lace like blooms line the lane
a scene made by many blooms small and plain
hedgerow leaves unfurl fresh and green
the leaves of the ash are not yet seen
There beyond the bushes screen
beyond the wind rippled field of green
beyond the tree where the jackdaws flew
there are the hills of distant blue
The paddock has a golden buttercup sheen
the spring fresh grass can not be seen
the horses are now in a paddock up the hill
as eating buttercups would make them ill
Climbing the stile into a field of hay
an earthen path shows the way
across the field to the hedge and gate
on reaching the hedge I hesitate
To listen to the birds singing away
in the peaceful quiet of the day
above the symphony of sound
a blackbird sings out full and round
Through the gate to where the cattle graze
a curious cow meets me with her gaze
I wonder at the thoughts of this ruminant
perhaps she wonders where her children went
Though the pasture to the lane
past the church and pub again
to arrive at the place I love most
for a cup tea, marmalade, butter and toast.