O look lord

I went for a walk today.

Well, a roll.

And even that was haphazard.

No rhythm. No momentum. No dynamism.

Certainly no straight forward lines. No flow.

Fingers caught in spokes.

Gloves slipped.

Nails tore.

Brakes failed.

And an arm fell off

(fortunately, not mine).

I huffed over bumps in the ‘accessible ’path.

I momentarily floundered in a loose gravel sea.

I dodged the dropped shingle.

I swerved through wet leaf litter.

I trailed brown slime and sludge.

I careered down the hill shrieking “wheeeeeeeee....... “

But I didn’t fall in the puddles

and the dog didn’t pee on my wheels.

Instead

I peered.

I prodded.

I examined.

I successfully contorted my camera to ground level.

And unsuccessfully got stuck there for a while

watching a snail take tea with a worm.

I talked to a robin for intelligent conversation

and carefully consulted a bee,

needing to glean her nutritional “recommendations”

before she released hold of my hat.

I glanced under leaves.

I rummaged in the reeds.

I reached for ripe blackberries

smeared and swiped them over my lips

and christened my cheekbones with

warpaint scooped from river silt.

I felt rough smooth worn grooved bark

as I greeted the scars of each tree.

I imprinted tribal patterns along the pavement.

I saluted the sky,

waved great looming clouds goodbye

watched them thin into torn flags

and streak blazing banners across the heavens.

I named a new colour.

I collected an acorn and chewed on some grass.

I buried my hand in the sandbank

then plunged my hand through

the pond’s puckered surface. (I’m nearly sure

the strange green will fade over time).

I tapped on the concrete.

I tickled the wet railings.

I twisted the loose plastic and,

plucky knight on her charger,

rescued an entire country of twigs

from being smothered.

And I sat still.

And heard my breath smoke into droplets

while my chest crackled;

Lifeblood pounded in my ears.

I smelt the damp dog-rose.

I sniffed a dried cowpat.

I inhaled the comfort of bonfires.

I heard creatures burrowing

and others uprising

through tunnels engineered before time.

I caught the buzzard’s mew as he played

on the thermals and watched four rooks

layer up their new home.

On the other side of the Yew

I heard a spade’s sigh

as it slipped into soil

and the pear fall thud messily behind me

(another lucky escape).

I lost count of the number of times I said

‘o look lord’ to the spirit striding beside me.

And all this without leaving my bed.

By Kate Kennington Steer

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