Monday, 5 September 2011

In West Wales

Dogwalking is all I Know
Parallel walking
a tyre on either side of the track
up the soggy road 
Hardly Kanchenjunga.
Ahead lies a spectacular heap 
of stones on the hill 

Although fleetingly agile
feeling like bits 
gently disintegrating 
like asteroids into the ages 

Unwell,  glandular,
not sprightly, dogshit 
but not from the night before
The sundown ahead
Reflecting so wonderfully
Crags and sky 
describable only in terms 
of oil painting
Unreality I suppose
A dog yawns 
the same
at this hour and at dawn.

I’ve been a fool
about friends
Can only look at my 
espadrilles sink 
into bountiful dung of
countless horses,
sheep, dogs & ponies

A crazed sheepdog drops a rock
Before me
 I throw it into the stream and he retrieves it,
Pawing it from the water back to me.
he repeats this with boundless enthusiasm
This could always be 
One sunset 

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