In Weather This gravel country lane leads to a sea We walk to on those countless, rainfilled days, With you a stride ahead and leading me Through fields, across the morning's lifting haze. And when you've named the flowers, all the ways They pollinate by insect, bird and bee, You lift your head, speak with a look that says This gravel country lane leads to a sea. Your free flung hair is blowing constantly As on you pace with a vigour that portrays The strength you gather from the liberty We walk to on those countless rainfilled days. When pitching storms fragment the shore with sprays Enfolding cliff and field and fallen tree, We force along the lane where cattle graze With you a stride ahead and leading me. At other times the sun is rising, free To split it's light, refract it's warming rays, Flighting sparrows, a tumbling parody Through fields, across the morning's lifting haze. In time, when memory fades and energy Deserts our weary limbs, will we appraise How weather drew us out, would remedy With rain these fields, occasional byways, This gravel country lane?