Scratching the Surface

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 
Under the melt water
Before the first Spring.

Published by poetdoesarun

I started running 14 years ago to help manage anxiety and depression and found the endorphins helped me in another write my sermons for Sunday.... and then inspiration came for poetry. A Christmas present 2017 was a book by Jo Bell, challenging the reader to write a poem a week for a year. This blog showcases these and other poems composed on the run.

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