This is the open road
Hedgerows, brambles, hawthorns
If I knew all of their names
I could be here for hours
And trees
Windblown trees
Alone
In the middle of fields
Wragby
Although it could be almost 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
Gates named: Walled Garden
Irrigation pipes
Laid overground
Overgrown
And leaking
Coppice or
Clumps of historic woodlands
With overhanging leaf branch tunnels
Which take me out into the sunlight
Back on to the open road
To be back home way before nightfall
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