Time Past 5

June 27, 2008

The  old road to Aylesbury: the verges mown, straw-coloured. Wood smoke somewhere, scent of memories, scent of longing, where the line of hills  keeps safe our green distances , tall umbels turning to seed in the hedges, the corn a juicy green in the fields behind. The road winds a bit, keeping the rhythm of the land and its centuries. Here I pass but here I feel I would be permanent, may be permanent. Here England  speaks to me. Here and by the sea, where granite cottages grow out of the harbourside and narrow lanes are steep, with whitewashed houses. Where the gulls cry. And again here in Bucks where the cattle browse and where the skies are wide.

About lleweton

Long retired.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s