Walkies in January
Second week in January, twenty twenty-five
It’s like the blooming Arctic - how do the birds survive?
They’re tweeting in the bushes as me and Steve walk by
They sing their little hearts out - ‘Yey, we’re still alive!’
We walk across the golf course, all crunchy, hard and white
Each blade of grass has been adorned and glistens in the light
It’s a winter wonderland out here, Jack Frost passed by last night
My toes are numb, I realise – my wellies are too tight!
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