Coming off a fell
at the end of an autumn walk
when kids aged 10 or under
sense there’s no more talk;
roll downhill in spinning wonder.
Shout and giggle, twist
in mud and thistles, sheep shit.
Why stay with feet on the ground?
This earth is too much fixed;
so whirl the grass, kiss
the sky Old Codger stomping, stomping, stomping down.