Beneath the soles of trainers and boots, Under the rubber tyres and padded paws, The sand and gravel, stone and dust Is pressed and beaten, levelled flat. A walker's highway, a circuit for runners Where the beeps of fitbits join the mix Of blue tits and warblers and LBJs, And a returning cuckoo announces Spring.
Beneath the path, lie coal dust and cinder, Long rusted nails and chunks of wood, Where the iron rails lay and engines steamed East to West on the valley floor. The rhythm of the wheels over the track Approaching, deafening then receding from sight Combine with skylarks, thrushes and rooks, And a cuckoo returns to announce Spring.
Beneath the tracks, lie lost and forgotten, Signs of invaders become home makers, The Normans, Danes, Romans and Brits. Broken pots, coins and fragments of bone Litter the valley with its gentle slopes While standing tall as sentinels on watch Ancient monuments to the eternal Divine, And in the heavens a skylark sings
Under the pots and fragments of bone Lie the valley's wealth, its rich bedrock of sand, gravel, ironstone and lime Jurassic in time, sedimentary in nature, Layer upon layer Bivalves and tusks, Ditritus and "toe nails" Sank and Settled Under the melt water Before the first Spring.