Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Law Common Road
On the way
To Cartworth Moor
Past the heather clad
Lands of the reservoir
Past the heathen led
Shooting grounds
What does it mean
Is it a law
Which marks this as the way
To common ground
Not a place
To be shot at
