A flock of birds fly overhead
Great misty vistas where we stood;
Leaves golden, amber, russet red.
New fences waist-high round the lake
Bulrushes, rambling reeds and mace
Soft, well trodden pathways snake
Round lofty beech – a hallowed place.
I imagine this scene long ago
Before the advent of the car
When farmer’s ambling horse would go
Laden with grain from fields afar.
Small village centred round a mill
A former dairy now a home
Then and now the views still thrill
Nature comes into its own.
Commuters pass this way all week
Do they see what they’re driving through?
In traffic slows, they’d rather peek
At mobile phones than see the view!
(c) Poet in the woods 2013
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