The Walk From Work In Winter
The forearms ache after their long days make of glass into many forms of structure.
The back is tight and it’s muscles tough after working hard to earn a crust and earn it honestly.
The winds they howl and the rain it drums as the cold wet spray waits to be encountered. Overalls still warm, a flat cap on, woollen jacket over tired shoulders.
The dark it comes so fast at night in the months after the autumn sunshine.
The miles to walk lay out in front before the door home is opened with a kiss and welcome from my wife.
But these exposed hills and open tracks between the fields are the hardest and cruelest parts of the journey. If the ice is rock and the rain is sharp the wind with my luck will be horizontal.
It takes all the strength left in this old body to face the elements after working hard all day for not much money. The mind finds peace as it thinks of warmth and the crackle of the fire with a cup of warm mead to settle and gaze at smiling eyes that dance in flames of evening shadows.
The wind blows so hard, the body tightens and head faces down up the steep hill to my house of family. The cold it knows how to get to my bones as I arrive I’m truly knackered.
Rest in warm bed after being hearty fed and humming tunes to the dying embers.
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