I am walking through my village

Drinking a hot chocolate –

Quickly, because it’s spilling over the sides,

Cresting with each crunch

And rasp of leaves underfoot.

It is – in truth – a little watery,

Tasting of rinsed-out Thermoses

And ice-skating arenas.

But it was given to me in kindness,

And this sweetens it,

And as I walk through my village,

Drinking my hot chocolate,

Geese wing through weakening sunlight,

And my throat goes tickled, tight:

An early foretaste of

My annual laryngitis.

All signs suggest

A long, hard winter ahead.

But for now,

I am walking through my village,

Drinking a hot chocolate,

And it is sweet indeed.