I stumble along the ice bound ground, admiring the grasses
and their soft frosty crowns. Stop by a gate. Shoot the breeze
with a cow. I wander on more till the path dwindles down to
a trail so faint that only pixies could find it but none appear.
Turning back it’s a pity there’s no simple track leading to the woods
across the dale, the paths through the forest barred by great rusting rails.
There must be another trail to trace. Pencil it down for a later date. Now,
work to done. Drat! Sad but true. It appears that I must be human too.