Row upon row of empty, desolate vines
Like War Graves;
A Mole swallowed by a python
Snaking destructively through the cleavage of Dorking’s sodden hills;
Brave and noble, Ancient Trees
Beside the dismembered limbs,
Torn and severed
Of many a young comrade.
Catkins like Christmas decorations
Pussy Willow fluffed up with joyous anticipation of Spring’s first kisses;
A soft smile from a child on her way to Nursery
Safely nestled in Mother’s arms;
A sweet, “Thank You!” unbidden from another
As I politely stand aside:
Good manners are delightful!
And, the icing – a gracious exchange of
Genuine “Good Morning!” from the perfect stranger
On her way to Friends…
Not all bad then
But surely the snows must follow?