Off the main road

This is the open road
Hedgerows
Brambles
Hawthorns

If I knew
The names
Of all the species
I could be here for hours

Trees
Windblown trees
Alone
In the middle of fields

The first town
Though it could be most anywhere
Is five and one half miles
Away

A lifetime's walk
For a smaller sentient being
Or for those who talk
But hardly ever leave home

Off the main road
Out into the country
Farmyards and gates
Fetes named Walled Garden

Irrigation pipes
Laid over ground
Overgrown
Leaking

Coppice
Or
Clumps
Of historic woodlands

Overhanging
Leaf branch tunnels
Take me
Out into the sunlight

Back
On to the open road
To be home
Way before nightfall


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon