There are those who wear hats whilst walking their dogs in villages.

There is a plumpness in the air, that says

we never lack two Sundays in a week; and there

is the surety of God's acre stretching greenly. 

An unspoken suspicion that it's all fake news,

CGI conjured and served from breakfast to supper,

the only reality being the barking of contented dogs

and the comforting presence of other like minded souls.

The walk is measured, assuredness of a full belly

and the scented pleasure of newly mown grass,

contained and encapsulated in the liturgical drone

of boundaried village sights and sounds; 

the sweet song of larks, ancient oaks bronzing, 

the norman church that has stood for centuries, 

but perhaps no longer stands for very much at all.

Soon enough, the walk is over, a last footstep echoes.

Guilty thoughts rise, only to be cast aside

as the insularity expands, searching for,

but never quite reaching the edge of the village;

as those who wear hats whilst walking their dogs

count up their blessings and reckon the odds.

Overhead of course, the birds still fly

to preordained destinations.

Formations sensing the winds of change,

the beating of wings no less regular

than the rhythm of the till in the corner shop

as it salts away the fruits of casual largesse;

whilst somewhere, somewhere that is 

not really so very far away, a child lies in

hungry sleep, dreaming of a comfort that never comes. 

Reviews

[Neville]

extraordinarily well stated... a delight to consider over and over, and end to end... in succinct terms, smashing... I hear on the grapevine you may have got something else published elsewhere, if true.. congratulations, if nothing more than a rumour, submit this...... Neville

[charlie]

"Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away..."

I really like the sound of your voice in this poem.

[Chris Shaw]

When I read your beautiful lines I couldn't help thinking about what has happened to village life. I read so often of young people who have spent all their lives in villages, not being able to afford to stay there when they are grown. I hear much about well off people, leaving the city for a more tranquil life style, to buy those cottages which are completely outside of the pocket of others. So there must be a huge divide in some of these places. Also, you mention the church, and I imagine that there has been a decline in congregation. There is much to think about and ponder on in your lines, which are delightfully poetic Beccy. A treat to read.

Chris

[Lyn Anderson]

This is really thoughtful, without being preachy, which is a great way to approach the subject. The divide is just a few streets, or blocks, or however you define it, but the divide seems greater than it ever was before.

[wordman]

sounds like you described america pretty well

[John the Baptist]

The contrast between the last two lines and the rest of the poem is what gives the work its impact. This is a very skillful work, requiring the reader to dwell upon the numerous images presented. I wonder how many grasp the political implications.

[Richard Charles]

Hi Beccy,
Thank you so much for sharing this. I have not been on the site in quite some time but I am so gladI stopped by tonight to see this. A beautiful piece, splendidly written and so full of sensory imagery. Thank you - loved it!
Rich