Poem #2,702 | Right to Roam

I’m a footpath fixer
from another town
[there nowt is long-
fettled] – I’ll hack at
shoots o’ routes re-
found between rub
of grass [& boughs]
& then retire for all
but a few hours – in
sun-dragged shade
I grab rest between
acts of clearing [I’ll
doze in soft grips] –
then will re-engage
with a scythe’s lisp
of blade ‘cross lost
pathways [slicings
to make] – I’m lent
out to dissever any
overgrown track &
take back our right
to roam lost ways –
I’m a footpath fixer