Whoosh, the whipping windy day.
Blows, wizzing winters thoughts away.
My hair flies back in florid strands.
As if transfixed with unseen hands.
We forge against the cloud strewn stream.
With cherries ruddy apple gleam.
Upon our faces as we shout.
To keep cold winters horsemen out.
As leaves take airborne, sparrow hides.
To escape cruel winters crashing tides.
Which flood the hard pressed oak below.
With waves of gaseous waters flow.
We stand on Dorket Head up high.
As blustery, westerly gale does try.
With all its might to depart our feet.
By wicked wisps from grass cool seat.
The striving storm is strong with stealth.
And gathers lucid leaf as wealth.
Which tumbling as if acrobat.
Contorts from curve to tree child flats.
Our partner fails us as we take.
To lower climbs where wind is shaped.
By solid abode of hard baked flick.
Which scuppers tempests florid flick.
And so with tromping tread on path.
We descend high hill from winters wrath.
Off home we head with bloody cheeks.
Fresh from Dorkets swirling streaks.
