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