I didn’t mean to walk so far,
to take the high path through the kissing gate
and trog like a woman possessed, up the hill.
But the snow beckoned me,
and the sun cajoled me,
and soon I was committed.
Following fresh rabbit tracks,
startling wild eyed sheep,
and wading through drifts up to my thighs.
Until, the dog,
sinking into deep snow with a yelp,
forced me out of my madness,
to drop to a lower path.
And so, we picked our way along the narrow track,
to happen upon the source of the brook that runs by the house.
A ‘fairy glade’
the other lone walker I surprisingly met, called it.
So elated was I by the place
that I forgot his directions,
and for my ignorance fell tumbling into prickling gorse,
upended and spiked to teach me humility.
Then, stifled excitement as a hare ran close by me.
Another gift on that day.
But the dog whined again, this time in trouble,
also stuck fast in the gorse.
I picked her up, unceremoniously, and with Herculean effort
hoiked her over the fence,
secretly relieved to reach the familiar track.
But oh, so happy with my discovery.
Happier still to look back at the hare again.
Triumphant even,
until the smell of death, stinking and strong,
hit my nostrils from the farm below.
Curious of the cause, I looked over the hedge,
Eyes wide to the sight of crows feasting.
Picking flesh from the carcasses of
a heap of cattle and sheep,
that did not survive
that pristine, beautiful day.
