Beside the canal
By the empty reservoir
At the entrance to the tunnel
In the spring sunshine
Of one more leap year
What kind of town is this
What kind of town is the other
Either way
They are both a long way away
And that’s a fact
But then again
Not many places can be nearby
If as you say that the sea
Is one half of nearby
To your home locale
Whereas before
On the spine of the country
Where moorland, and peat, and bog
Happily co-exist, in more or less
Equal measure, to the rain
