Turning from Old to New Horwich Road
The footsteps slow
The breath deepens
The incline takes its toll
Onwards and upwards
To the place where the tarmac ends
And a choice awaits
To the left, who knows?
To the right, a track
That does not deserve the name of any thoroughfare
A simple, small, often concealed sign
Marks the way to WBCC
Beware of dogs, horses, ramblers
And take extra care if your car has a low exhaust
Passing places stretch the term
As side by side two vehicles dance
And rock and almost kiss
As the overgrown verge conceals discarded rock
From dry stone walls
Upwards and onwards once more
A gate, a wall
A wall, a gate
Turn to the right
And rest
And breathe
Breathe in that cleanest of air
And gaze across the landscape
Boats rest on a placid water
Clouds smile above a green tapestry
Criss-crossed with grey lines
And patchwork made good
With brown remnants
This is the picture from a jigsaw puzzle box
This is Blake’s England
This is Blake’s green and pleasant land
Below, the land is closer
A green baize
Where twenty two protagonists do battle
For nought but glory of the day
They chat
They play
They chat
Then play some more
Telling tales
Ever taller the more often told
Tall tales
That have lasted beyond a generation
Creating tales that will last
A generation more
Ebbing and flowing
The game progresses
And starts and stops
Ah yes
It must be time for tea