In colder climes we hark, after a walk, 
to older times where blackened, warming hearths
were catalysts for cosiness and talk,
a glass in hand, for tired communing hearts.

A time when tele-things were not in vogue
and presence was a given, not away,
there was no place for agents going rogue,
there was a space for all to sing and play.

Today all that is natural is effort,
virtuality’s the new expected mode,
a deer, a mushroom are a source of comfort
where real and not hallucinating Claude.

I’m hungry now, I don’t know where my bag is…
Who cares, as I sit down and eat my haggis!

Impromptu composition inspired by pictures and words exchanged in a friends’ chatroom.