Another Path

There’s another path:
Behind the towpath,
Beyond the hedgerow,
It shimmers with elderflowers
Like snow.

Who’s using that?
Not the joggers,
Clagged feet and clogged memory.
Amongst the hemlock;
A slower amble.

You slip and follow.
Inspiration; a tang of cicely
For your songs.
Sneak into the wet spots,
Track deer into the pool.

A still trap of
Easy-green pondweed.
This isn’t solid ground;
There’s no hard standing.
Kingfisher flash:

Dart with it into the gloom
Between falling walls
And rotting fences.
Is this a path? Or a desire;
To slide away into the rushes.


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