I walk uphill to get groceries.

At the top of the hill, it goes down

and there’s the store in a small valley.

Then I walk back uphill and down, home;

though, sometimes, I have a pot of tea

half-way, when the ground flattens itself.
I see cows on these pleasant journeys;

and I hear birds. I lean on my stick.

I’d like life to go on for ever

as long as it doesn’t change too much

or get busy or run out of tea.
On good days, I go uphill again,

leaving my things to eat behind me.

I go past the store and then uphill

then downhill until the road turns left.

There is a good place to sit near there.