Winter Parade

It may be winter but I am too much of an outdoor person to stay inside by the fire for long. I just have to get out! Wandering along the Dutch canals in a tiny pocket of countryside hidden between the motorways and the noisy bustle of everyday life and accompanied only by the sounds of blue tits and warblers cheeping in the willow trees, I began to be able to hear myself think and this was the result!

Winter Parade

Reeds, standing tall beside the water’s edge,
Pale golden in the winter sunlight,
Standing guard, waiting,
For the changing of the seasons.

Pollarded willows, patterned and regimented,
In serried ranks along the bank,
Tall upright stems, pushing upward,
Against the pale winter sky.

Two dark figures on the distant towpath,
March on, muffled against the bitter cold,
A small black mongrel
Trotting happily behind them.

Cold and crisp, the winter’s icy stillness,
But already a faint hint of spring
Hesitating in the wings,
Awaiting its proper cue.

Rare glint of sunshine on oily water,
Casting its golden glow,
Forecasting the winter’s end
And another new beginning.