The clatter of Sunday walkers’
Boots and walking sticks echoes loud
As they pass through the yawning village
Until it is swallowed
By early morning mist and cloud
In the hedgerows
Daffodils stand proud
A smear of buttery sunshine
But an edge of something lingers
A taste of frost
The smell of undergrowth
Numbness in toes and fingers
A reminder that winter
Is only just
Saying
Goodbye
© Kim M. Russell, 2016
writing in north norfolk 
Very evocative of the day. G:)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Graeme. The Sun is shining now 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful. I can imagine and feel the scene–like something from the 19th century.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s our village!😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
At last! Can’t wait for the good weather to come… Lovely evocative poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you – the sun is shining today 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Looks nice here too 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person