A Different Track

Keeping things simple

A DIFFERENT TRACK

The branch line lies disused today.
The railwaymen have all walked out,
for higher pay, I suppose.
I chose not to listen to the news,
it would have made no difference
to what I made of my day.

Walking out beside the track
where campion and thistles sway,
a melody of children at play
transports me back past paddocks,
through bracken, down dusty paths
where my feet found their own way.

Each day a magic discovery –
where to find fly agaric, peewits’ nests,
the best chestnuts and blackberries –
this knowledge hoarded as treasure.
There’s a power to it, not of influence
but of private independence.