Down the valley and back

I feel better when I walk to Quorn from Barrow

On pavements laid by water meadows

Set close by the River Soar

Slabs stretch for half a mile or more

Bordered by the thick lush grass

Fields of forage fed by floods.

When rain has rinsed the surface stone

The pathway gleams as clean as new

High pitched pylons frame my view

Amphibia discharge their spawn

Runners and ramblers step in turn

To trickle through the watery marsh

Sometimes I’ll take a stick or staff.

Slabs might be raised or cracked or sunk

Briskly tread both rough and smooth

Better put my worst shoes on

So I can risk the mud and sludge.

Cattle, seagulls, herd and flocks

Swans in pairs and dogs in packs

Trace my footsteps if I run.

Liveried narrow boats in line

Fly flapping flags of pants and jeans

Through the Soar’s black liquid brew

Throbbing engines stir and screw.

Though my return is straight and narrow

From well fed Quorn to bony Barrow

Tin trailers on a caravan park

Wink temptation in the dusk.

Might orange sunsets light the sky

Above green grass where pavements lie?

Share this: