I was steered here
when I was sixty-three
to
The Land Of The Lakes

The hills and fells
disinterest me
a lovely lake
however
can occasionally
catch my eye

One day I took
a wintry walk
wearing a chapeau
crunching snow
on a Windermere Jetty
jutting out into
the heart of the park
pretending
to intend
to continue
beyond the end

A memory was snapped
into a permanent place
by the capturing eye
walking by