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?