As a younger person i used to enjoy walking up a mountain on a crisp winter morning. Now though, in the cold months my knees slow me piercingly before too many steps. I still go out - i walk half a path and double back, taking lengthy breaks along the way to allow the pain subside; recording my thoughts as the cloud clears; getting lost in the world of words evoked by intricacies in the view of my chosen seat.
Today: a half-naked broadleaf woodland with some rocks and stumps breaking through the fabric of its autumnal coat, shed. I watch the sun no longer illuminate the lake disappear below the hill opposite.
I wait without waiting.
Frost forms on the tips of branches and leaves. Soon new growth will bud fresh green, clothing the woods in life.