Amidst the hail stone

Catching the stones.
Flushed were our cheeks.
Baby astonished.
Too early to speak.
Canal springs too narrow
To hold thoughts at their peak.
Ripples like paint drops
Flicked in sheets
The birds wobbling too cute
to adore motion complete
Mud slip in our shoes
But happy to repeat
Free from the noise
Yet not a sheep's bleat
A small moment of heaven
An urban retreat
Tired from the hauling
Yet stepping up our feet
I miss being thin
For this I'll admit defeat
As I nearly fall down
Over puddles of sleet
The hail softens to snow
And the baby now sleeps