on the dark side of the hill
ice hides in furrows
crack beneath my feet
I was over-dressed yesterday as I went out walking in the first bright day of the year. A gift after too many grey skies.
After 10 minutes, it was huff and puff up the hill. Too long a time since I was last heading to a hilltop. Packing my home into boxes and then shifting them has blanked out a few weeks in my diary.
Twenty strides, stop. Twenty strides, stop. That's how I am on the steepest bits. Hat shoved into my pocket, scarf off, jacket captive around my waist. Too many layers.
I sit at the top, look back over my route back to where home now is, hidden behind other streets. Turf gone to bolt cushions my feet as walk on into the worn out greens and buffs of last year's grasses.