Ripe green stands of grass shoot up through furry moss which gives beneath my feet.
Songs are sung by a few brave birds who entertain a frosty chill which breezes past me.
I have been here before, not to this exact location, but here I have been.
Calm and serene.
It seems like an age ago now, so much has changed.
The sun was shining then and I was hungrier. I took time to pause before I moved again.
Pressing on I roll over the bowing moss and a single branch cracks, just once. Loud enough to silence the whispers where numbers are names.
It's time to go for tine hands cup their call.
But this I know, I will be back.
Maybe not to this exact location.
I will come.