Wander through the burrowed light, 
mud-packed walls breathing warmth, 
a kettle thrums—no rush, just the steady, 
unbroken rhythm of being.

Hands work the earth, kneading sun into soil, 
tucking seeds deep where roots raise memory.

Footsteps soften against moss, 
small strides, sure and deliberate, 
paths well-trodden yet never worn.

Bread breaks, laughter follows, 
cups ...

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Walk the wight

With all your might

through sights similar to Honiton

which isn't too unlike Hobbiton

Names and faces are carried through an aching 33 miles

With care and thought all the while

Here we reflect and remember

the lost souls of our dark Decembers

We start off four in our fellowship

With hopes of seeing off our hardship

To cross a finish line is ou...

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