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Morning Walks

November 30, 2014

Arboretum
Many writers advocate morning walks as a way of getting the creative juices flowing. I spent a pleasant few hours strolling around Fountains Abbey in Ripon this morning.
It is one of several places which I visit several times a year in search of peace, quiet and inspiration.
The following poem was written about an arboretum which dropped off my list of favourite escapes when it introduced a new attraction:

It all changed when the raptors moved in.

Not that I could see them,
but I could smell their stench,
could feel their blood red eyes
itching for the chance
to strip flesh from bone.

Pegged out by breed
and country of birth,
their eldritch screech lased
my mind, rattled my teeth,
shredded my walk
through the pine tree trail.

There was no more peace
in the old walled garden,
by the lily pad lake
or waterfall steps,
saturated by their carrion call.

It all changed when the raptors moved in.


I should add that the photograph was taken by my youngest daughter on a visit to the arboretum a few years ago.
We still visit occasionally but not as regularly as we used to.
I hope this poem will inspire you to think of places you visit to recharge your batteries and consider how those places and our responses to them change over time.

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From → Poetry

2 Comments
  1. blondieaka permalink

    I to have been introduced to the power of a walk,here is my 1st thoughts on my 1st walk …I hope you enjoy and thank you for liking my post.

    An Early Morning Stroll.

    Without a care in the world two monks strolled along the dusty road. I marveled at how their bare feet seemed not to flinch on contact with a stone or sharp object.
    A young girl in jeans and a skimpy top and the same bare feet came out of a bar and reverently dropped to her knees, hands clasped together in prayer .Arising she gave both monks an offering of food and money and again dropped to her knees at their feet. The monks chanted above her in perfect unison. The sound magnified as it echoed all around in the stillness. A humbling moment for me, knowing people still laid their faith bare for all to see.
    Continuing onwards there was calmness in the air on this warm but not yet sunny morn.
    Young men, hair tousled from sleep climbing into the back of the waiting pickups, a sight we are all getting used to seeing.
    Birds, sounds magnified or maybe they just trilled a little louder to celebrate another new day.
    Kids off to school, boarding houses and hotels just waking, steps being washed.
    Pots clattering in readiness for our breakfast. A last breakfast for our merry little band of Retreaters.
    For me it signals the end of an idyllic few days, full of awe at the talent of others, raw promise immerging from some, not forgetting the laughter and fun as we enjoyed friendships both old and new.

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