cold feet, cold toes, I need to wind-up the clockwork of my body, keep muscles strong, blood moving still day, cold, wintry sun, birds only were busy in the trees haven, harbour, grass about my ankles and knees, all buds are brown, ripe for decay so long ago the child so far away and their experience of me was not my life - now the deliberate day the wondering, open horizon where the plains hold swaynext poem