Member Poem

Stormy gusts forged
how they impact,
I refuse to moan,
ripples of chilly air,
threat on stone cold
pavement under foot
nonetheless I press
ahead by sheer guile
in  self endurance
weekend shopping
mapped with intent
array of items put
on grocery list
you heard me state
list, that magic word
yet ample planning
it’s the spur, drive, yen
imagery as bulwark
against winter rage
yet devoid of rain
no douse of spirit
I’m no weather grouch
that seems surreal
that has been drilled
into me by myself
within an inch myself
alone along the way
so composed  am I
this raw Saturday
my sense of recall
serves me on this
ragged downward trod
despite dour skies
the many usual signs
smiles from neighbours
friends, even strangers,
oops my hat flew away,
well, nearly to an extent
caught it just in time,
I’ll reach the home town,
to revel in the gaiety,
it’s that time of year,
some say it’s this,
all year round event,
is that prone  to doubt,
to further questions,
the one that comes up,
most often than not,
is would most surely,
be quite the same,
however leaving that,
aside until later,
at last I’m in the door,
of local supermarket,
for a little heat, warmth
if only for the shortest,
of short periods for now,
the journey home awaits,
the rain seems to be easing ,
let’s hope I  journey  home,
with all my favourite treats,
at the ready when I sit down,
don’t I deserve them
so does every body