One beginning of 2017. . .
After the festive bloating, a following of familiar frost-crusted paths.
Across crunch-grass fields, through gates and up towards the modest heights of School Knott.
The tarn waters hard from the day, barely touched by sun.
Windermere below, the north western fells beyond.
The day's first cloud oncoming, even as it passes the baton to the falling night.
Home.
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