I stop at a stile

gasping for breath

on this steep

walker-worn trail

beside Buttermere

the resplendent lake

that reclines beneath.

I am joined for a while

by an elderly couple

as fit as fiddles who

after pleasantries

chat proudly about

their grown-up kids

their fulfilling careers

their ample pensions

and lives without tears

evidently enjoying

their golden years.

Buttermere reflecting

the setting sun

seems a receptive

mirror for meditations

of such sanguine souls.

They move on apace

back to their hotel

where they will rest

refreshed and untroubled

by the ills of this world

leaving me alone

with my fears

and my anxieties

as darkness falls

upon Buttermere.

                                                         ~ Ian Fletcher

                                                          Cardiff, South Wales