Mid Afternoon

It was mid-afternoon as we went out today
passing the ground where football is played.
Concrete firm beneath our feet
as we walked on down to the end of our street.
Through backs of factories, to where rail tracks lay
carrying their goods miles away.
Pass the lake of frozen ice,
down the lane, past horses twice.
Over the bridge where the river runs
sparkling water reflecting the sun.
The sound of a weir roaring on our right,
while on our left a bird takes flight.
Muddy footpath beneath our feet
squelching softly, gives a small squeak.
A broken bough with bushes entwined
blocks our path, we detour around.
Parts of the river are frozen still,
the wind is whistling, noisy, shrill.
There in the distance two ducks go by
bright coloured canoes upturned to dry.
Geese are sitting there in the sun,
moorhens pecking then give a fast run.
A smell of burning in the air
while all around the trees stand bare.
A broken log covered in moss,
broad patches of burnt out dross.
Tin cans, paper, bottles galore,
the shell of a boat on the far shore.
Pussy willow buds breaking out
new shoots, new life all about.
Creation is living, breathing, sighing,
it’s also decaying, breaking, dying.
A wooden bridge as we go on our way
homeward bound, times up today.
Past brick built offices windows shining,
cars a gleam, coloured flags flying.
Our skin is tingling our feet are sore
as we make our way up to our door.
Each step we’ve taken along the way
the whole of us a part to play.