A new edition to my Words section.

The Tawny Owl lifts one heavy eye
watching me warily from his hollow home.
I slam the car door,
pull on my hat and salute his presence.

Wellie boots, soil caked from my last sojourn, pound familiar earth
keeping step with my heart.
The river overtakes my stride, hurried and babbling, swollen with newly shed rain.

Ahead, silvery Birch are touched by sunlit fingers
briefly glimpsed through darkly brooding cloud.
Chattering birds, hushed through the long months of winter, fill the silence with eager voice.

Rolling fields empty of bleating cargo, housed closer to home
their bellies full with unborn life.
The Oystercatcher, peeping alarm from long orange bill, circles overhead.

I sink to my knees on the grassy riverbank
uniting with the land of my people.
Damp ripples shivers along aging skin,
bones protesting my weight.

The Kingfisher streaks silently by,
cobalt blue above the murky water,
defending territory.
The river parts with a plop as gleaming Trout leap for air.

I breathe deeply
filling stale lungs with fresh, clean life,
the hope of Spring lurking tantalizingly in newly budding branches.
The wheal of a lone Buzzard descends on the breeze, echoing my solitude.

My walk continues,
traversing the deep waters
asking ancient stone to carry me safely, just one more time.
Stiles tax stiffening hips and unused heart,
beads of cool sweat pop on my brow.

The Tawny Owl lifts one heavy eye
Watching me warily from his hollow home.
I take off my hat, walk over for another day.
Eye closing, he sleeps.