a walking poem for 23rd February , 2024. The Terminalia day.

A long dark night
storm had blown the stars away
my homeward feet know these grassy pathways
trod by generations – village to churchyard –
muddied shoes find hard paving stones,
brick kerbs to town;
library, the chippy, three takeaways, pub,
two charity shops, shuttered bankrupt premises,
the icream and deli.
18,000 steps.
a front door – a brass key –
home.