Poetry – An ideal walk.

An Ideal Walk

 

Past the last house and out into the country,

Under a patchwork of blue and white fluff from which the sun peeps.

Up the incline past patches of blue, yellow, pink and white amid a sea of green,

As patches of speedwell, buttercup, daisy, campion, deadnettle and hedge parsley spread among the grass.

Ahead there are startling white bushes of hawthorn awash with blossom.

Over the hedgerows the collage of fields, some brown, some green and some yellow, make a flowing canvas over the hills.

Tunnels of trees and bushes with sheer sides trimmed for traffic.

And up, past the bluebells where the orange tips played.

A call from a pheasant in the wood.

A blackbird swoops low across the hedge shouting its warning.

A robin cheekily sits on a branch and calmly watches you walk by.

Little brown birds chirp and sing.

Hover flies settle on the blossom, joined by an occasional white-tailed bumble bee, but sadly no honey bees.

Up higher past the farm house.

I find Woody Guthrie lines coming into my mind –

Roaming and rambling down ribbons of highway

Above me endless skyways.

Reaching the summit, to stand and look, to survey the land spread out all around

Above the sky seems to arc into a visible sphere.

One has the feel of standing on a planet under endless space.

One stands in the middle of nature

A tiny speck in the midst of wonder.

An ideal walk.

A satisfying smile.

A glow of fulfilment.

 

Opher – 16.5.2020

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