Tag Archives: #Walks

From the walk today.

From the walk today.

A horse in the hedgerow

A robin in the field

Or, maybe that should be the other way round:

plǝᴉɟ ǝɥʇ uᴉ uᴉqoɹ ∀ ʍoɹǝƃpǝɥ ǝɥʇ uᴉ ǝsɹoɥ ∀

That seems about right.

G:)

Advertisements

New Forest Walk – Early

image image image

New Forest Poetry – Early

We head out early
To the place
Where we can roam free –
The dogs
And me
They upon legs fleet of foot
Me, on flights of fancy
As I follow at a pace
That suits feeling
Breathing
Thinking
Writing.

And, no sooner are we set upon paths
Tracks
And routes untrammelled
Do I sense the things
That create the words
To write
For to remember the experiences
In future times
When four walls encumber me
And my soul is hampered
By urbane urbanity.

Leaves fall and descend to the hoar-frost land below
Savouring their flight from tree to track
With maybe a regretful look or two back
Amongst friends and new acquaintances
They lay peacefully
And consider the changes to come.
Whilst I consider them.

And so it goes…

From ‘A Walk in the New Forest’ – 08-08-2015

image

In the cool of the shade
And the relative silence of the glade
Along paths newmade
By us
We recharge
Our selves.

Amongst the trees
With subtle breeze
And a pace of ease
Just so
We wander
Along.

A lone Mistlethrusslewotsit
Chirps plaintively
From an unseen perch
Asking…?Warning…? Just happy to be…?
Perhaps seeking another Mistlethrusslewotsit
To join her
In her ullulations.

A destinied silver vehicle
Flashes across the blue
First heard, then seen, then…
A gradual diminution of her…
I think they were all at the windows
Looking down upon the glory
Of the morning forest;
They are not as lucky as us
Walking here.

Then
A hunting horn is heard
But, only in my mind
This one is from nigh
A thousand years ago
And the sound
Has only just reached me.

The ‘clip-clop-clip!’
Of a three-legged horse rider
(I jest, as I cannot see either,
And if either had three legs
I would be a little surprised)
Anyway the sound
helps me to route
Our way away
From them
As the dogs are still young
And I am not.

We reach the barely moving stream
They plunge and slurp
I watch and smile
They cool their paws
And slake their thirst
The sleepy river keeps us a while.

I capture moments
In words and film
To replay when
I am stuck within
Four walls
No trees
No comforting,
Companionable breeze.
I laugh and grin
At the pups’ games
Chasing round, across the bridge,
Through shallows;
Making waves.

A dragonfly flits atop the water
Too fleet of wing
To be captured by my lens
Its hues glimmering
As it wends upon its way.

We walk alongside the stream
Not rowing, not even gently
And life is but a dream.
Or so the song says,
And then we return to the forest walk.

And we walk for a goodly time
With few words between us
As we embrace the joy of our trek.

And I sense this is a good forest;
Not a Mirkwood or a Garroting Deep
As I have read
An old forest
Gainsaying the name
But a kindly one
To me
A Narnian forest
In good times
I expect to meet a Mr Tumnus
But, sadly, don’t.

“Walking in the forest
Walking back and forth
Walking East then walking west
Then I’m walking…
South?
North?
Lost in the forest
Walking back and forth
Trying to get out of here
But, just walking back and forth!”

Just a made up song

As of yet.

I know. As it’s morning
Sun rises in the East
So depending on where the sun is…
It’s 11:54 and the Sun is high above
The direction I need the least is up
Even when push comes to shove.
But, my sense of where I am
Does lead me on
And soon we’re at the stream again
As I knew we would be
My doubts which grew are gone.

Walking back on my last legs,
Sorry, ‘the’ last leg of our walk in the forest
We have all had a work out
And no harm has befallen us
I’m sure we will all be pleased
To get back to see Home.

In the woods (04-07-2015)

image image

It is cool in the forest
In the shade of trees of age.

And I try to capture the moments
In words upon a page.

A welcoming breeze accompanies
A greeting most effusive.

And walking here brings
A peace, elsewhere, so elusive.

Woodland creatures ignore my passing;
Or herald it; I know not which;

And the cry of birdsong is a soundtrack
To my walk; my healing stitch.

As a head heavy from toils of yester
Is opened and cleansed to help return the jester

Who fell silent when the laughter didn’t come;
Couldn’t crack a joke; struck numb… dumb.

The crack of a twig
The sigh of the wind
A beaten path
To an easing of the mind.

Run To Me (not the Bryan Adams song)

image

Run to me
Run as fast as the wind
Run to my call
Run as if running is all
And when you reach me…

Stay a while
And chew the breeze with me
For that would be good.