Field Observations

Long walk over rutted ground, forget the toll on ankles and knees
think about improving your balance

Water in the ditches, and in the field edge, scatterings, weathered half-bricks
and white tiles. An old house? 

A green lane the dog hates, she cowers, tail down, and wants to run 
because of the firing range, and the bird-scarers

Past the halfway point there is a track, leading to a copse. The hand painted
sign says ‘Private Rod’. I imagine a raw recruit, all Adam’s apple and wing-nut ears

The empty farmhouse, slates missing, with a caravan behind. We thought they
we’re fixing it up. Instead they are knocking it down

A sign attached to a telephone pole says we have 28 days to object
although we probably won’t

Inside a green cathedral, lit with blackthorn blossom, bursting
with white froth, I want to say ‘billowing’, or shout it

The wind has shifted to the North, and cold, though when the clouds part
there is real heat in the sun

We are getting our lockdown steps in. Today’s walk is nine thousand steps
which sounds a lot, but is only around four miles. Thoreau would laugh