Tuesday, 27 December 2011

Walk in late December.

thick sticky mud is underfoot
deep dark puddles splash our boots
trees unclothed limbs exposed
tripping over knarled roots

solid grey skies overhead
broken branches cross the ground
dampness in the air today
moss covered trunks all around

one crow cawing high above
this raucous sound can slice the air
but all is peace down in the wood
one lovely place too good to share

stop by a rope swing on the hill
hanging from a king size tree
winter bird song sparse so thin
ringing clear while sounding free

this winter walk can be such fun
through air so cold with winter chill
Trethewey wood with rushing stream
 small mammals sleep then all is still


Mitch Block said...

As always, your descriptions are so rich I feel like I'm there. And that means I need to put on a sweater and go dry my socks on the radiator.

Ina in Alaska said...

I often wonder how the birds handle the cold of winter. Some of them are so small & the chill can be fierce.

This poem evoked a winter walk perfectly & I thought about birds in winter for quite a while.

Toby is coming along slowly but surely. He is resting comfortably. I am hopeful he did not injure a neck disc. Thank you for your kind words on my blog.

the cuby poet said...

Ina in Alaska: I am glad you liked this poem I try so hard to find the correct words.

the cuby poet said...

Mitch Block: I am so glad I took you on my walk.

Nubian said...

I always feel like such a ditz with my constant reply of 'love'. I do love your poetry.

the cuby poet said...

Nubian: Please don't feel a ditz. I love it that you love my poetry! Just keep on loving it there is nothing wrong with that! :)

Lady Mondegreen's Secret Garden said...

Ah a fresh walk with you is always a picture in my mind. I have spent the last couple of days in family gatherings, talking about a future return, my niece wanting me to visit her in Truro! Happy New Year.

the cuby poet said...

Lady M.: So glad you like my walks. A niece in Truro wanting you to visit next time I so agree..... roll on your next UK trip!

Anonymous said...

Claire, I can't remember what comment I made the first time. I do remember that I loved listening to that winter bird song. It rang through your poem sweeter and clearer than a winter bell.

(By the way, I just mentioned under the comments in my blog that if you link your name to your blog when you make comments there, sometimes other readers will click on your name and go visit your blog. Just wondered if you knew that...and that also makes it easier for me to come a'visiting.)

Happy New Year!

CherryPie said...

That sounds like a perfect walk :-)

Enchanted Oak said...


the cuby poet said...

upwoods: Thanks Kathy for all the information not sure I completely understand but I will investigate!!
Glad you could hear the varied birds singing in my poem.

the cuby poet said...

CherryPie: It was a most enjoyable winter walk.

the cuby poet said...

Enchanted Oak: Thank you.

Doris said...

It was the 'sticky mud' that captured me and drew me into that wood. I could feel the dampness and hear the birds. I could smell the cold, dead leaves underfoot. Then I felt really good when I got home,took my boots off and put my feet up.

the cuby poet said...

Doris: It is a beautiful wood but the cup of tea on arriving home was pretty good too. Glad you were attracted to the sticky mud, pretty squelchy!!

Yvonne said...

I like this poem, too. Evokes the scene and atmosphere well.

the cuby poet said...

Yvonne: Thanks for the comment.So glad you liked it.