Liberation begins
with a cheap cloth backpack
scored for five quid
from a tourist shit shop
loaded
with a hat and slicker,
passport and vape pen,
a few bucks,
a hunk of English cheddar,
a map.
-
Miles walked
for days
in hiking boots
and the same torn tee
through gently sloping
greens and yellows
alongside ribbons
of ancient stone walls
mottled and moss covered,
never far from
the English coast
where terns and puffins nest
under watchful eyes
of caregivers
with unfamiliar accents.
-
Right of way
public access
for all walkers
across
moors and heathery bogs,
fields and dales,
and even
nine-hole links courses
carved into the dunes
with gongs
to bang
to warn golfers
of our passing.
-
Sheep farms and cattle ranches,
wildflowers and manicured gardens,
bird song and the splash of fish tails
presented Victorian style
under an English cloche
of sterling silver sky
riveted with clouds
like the finest British wool
parting only to reveal
impossibly royal blue heavens.
-
My steps fall silent
upon trails and back roads
traversed by pilgrims
for thousands of years,
seeking
peaceful restoration.
Wanting silence
aloneness
in this plein air
but realizing
instead
we are but a part where of nature’s painting;
the whoosh of wind,
the slam of surf,
the wave of each grass blade,
the snap of each tree bough,
the splatter of each bug,
the etch of each limestone cliff,
even in
the thwack of a tiny white ball;
our wholeness
our consciousness
our care
emanates from
our
interconnectedness.
-
#england #walkingholiday #northumberland (at Seahouses Harbour)
Heritage Culinary Artifacts