Melsonby to Bishop Auckland
A poem based upon encounters...
A crock, a gun, a smock, a hook
A boy, a man, a shepherd's crook
In corn fields golden, a dead rook
not in Durham, but in Yorks
Rabbit, two hares, lark and lapwing
Bumble-bee, butterfly, hover - no sting
Three planes in mid-air synchro-flying
not in Durham, but in Yorks.
Elderflower, honey-suckle and scented rose
Fragrance wafting, seeds-sticking in sock toes
Look like insects, sharp asnails - how God knows
not in Durham, but in Yorks
Lanes or roads, road or lane
The choice is mine, not hill or plain
Then finally we come down again
now in Durham, not in Yorks
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