A short interlude

I was going through my files shortly after saving a sponsorship form in one of my foloders and I came across this. I wrote it partly to recall an experience I had as I walked to Walsingham solo during a cold winter week a few years ago. But it is also written with one or two places in France on my mind. I expect that Alison and I will have a few mornings a bit like this one quite soon. So, here's a rough and ready little ditty for you to consider....

Quiet exit at first light

We open the door quietly
and the cool air blows gently across the path
then past us into the dark hall
where the clock loudly ticks below the wooden stairway

Morning is still emerging
from somewhere behind the old church
as we begin our walk.
The earliest birds are choosing their places
utilising centuries of accumulated practice,
and their ecstatic songs reverberate
along the quiet medieval streets.

An occasional car or van
rushes along the road
the beams from their lights
climbing walls and swinging past us
projecting a cool sense of reluctance
as the drivers make their way to work.

Each step we take increases our hunger
and the thought of coffee clings to us like the early mist
so we check the map
to estimate the location
of our possible breakfast
and then we focus on the road ahead.

We reach the path above the river valley
in time to watch the full splendour
of the sun illuminating the bank of mist below
in ridiculously beautiful colours
then we zip up our jackets as we descend
into the dull grey layer of mist
below the morning extravaganza.