My feet are blue with cold
As I trudge the snowy hills
To find the signs of those gone
Ahead leaving wispy wisdom
Like golden coins in the drifts
Of feather like flakes
Heart thudding as I hear a whisper
It is your turn to pick up the baton
The lit torch in your path
Forge on with it, it’s magical light
Guide for head and heart
My feet cold no longer I see
I am clad in shoes to protect
A cloak grown warmer around me
Heart steadier and surer
That my path however different
Is the right one to take
And so I shall
Head bowed I thank the ancestors
The hills, and wind
The quiet now gone and a bird sings
Heralding my newness.
Ailsa
©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2021
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