The Morning Walk

The winter lake, surrounded by frigid trees And naked branches whose now ankle deep Soggy wet leaves carpet the lakeside path, Has become an inhospitable place. I now drive to the marina for my morning Walk. There are no soggy leaves there, only The sound of the wind off the sea, and the Wind singing in the rigging of moored yachts. It's only a short drive, and I can listen to the Early nine O'clock news on the car radio, The only thing that breaks the silence until I Find a parking space at the supermarket there. I walk among the cries of circling gulls over the River watching them dive into the water, or fight Over which floating branch they want to perch on. The cormorants have taken all the best seats. I head towards the inner harbour and moored Motor vessels sleeping side by side in tidy rows Waiting for their owners to wake them. Many Now will hibernate through the cold wet winter. Crossing the marina, where the sea meets the river, You can watch the tree debris and floating plastic That's collected on bollards and is now waiting for A high tide to send them out to pollute the open sea. Walking back on the east side I find a bench and Sit looking at the waking river traffic for ten minutes Or so. A few metres away some poor soul is trying To fix a maggot on a hook hoping to catch a fish. The path now becomes busy with old men in lycra Cycling, vying with young joggers from academia, Mums with pushchairs, and dog walkers whose Dogs defecate for other people to tread on. I continue my walk admiring the yachts and the Tenacity of the old men in lycra as they puff their Way along the path. I walk over the sail bridge and Head towards the supermarket, now minutes away. I enter its cafe around 10: 00 am, order a tea and sit Alone by the window overlooking the river. It's not my Favourite cafe, but it will do, ‘cos watching the flowing River, and gulls, helps me think and gather my thoughts.