Walking by the Inn at Daybreak

Early morning smells fill my walking path

With bacon, coffee, on floors – oak-tabled.

Those within enjoying this fen moment

As I pass by in a search of light and laughter

This ancient inn with the sea-faring name

Nestling, standing strong by the Bedfords.

A once was spit and sawdust hostelry

Neither rich nor imposing in intent.

The honking geese pass over wearing

their wildness, plotting their winter

wanderings, shadowed by fixed-wing -

stark, immoveable in the morning glare.

Peeping through the passing clouds much

As the swan lifting its' neck from the

Water-world, the sun shyly tests the skies

Her confidence blinding for a moment.

The heron, leggy and sophisticate, hidden

By reeds sharp and piercing, gathers its

Strength, launches its body for a cat-walk

Ride through the grey on grey landscape.

I wander on, dreaming, lottery fuelled

Dreaming - of nights and days, beside

This inn.   Of sheep and cows, dogs and

Chickens, as I smell the warmth

That fills my walking path

That fills my walking path