The sounds are muffled by sight,
so we close our eyes and listen.
The Earth sounds vibrate unending,
as the location dictates the intensity.
With eyes closed the wind whistles
through the hills of green to grey.
A chorus of cows moo and grumble,
then the birds chime and chirp around.
With eyes closed the ground disappears
as the seashore comes closer, closer.
Sea waves move and splash, as the cold
winds of the North take us far away.
Held for so long, we stay there for a time
not realising the hills have darkened and
night has come to our Winter wonderland.
Yet the sea still calls us back from the hills;
always calling us back to her cold shores.
C & K 