Sometimes a worn mud path
Sometimes a worn mud path
is only well-trodden because
it stops & you have to double
back – turn-heels – defeated –
you reverse a line [we chose
this path – it looks like others
did] – you’ll then be subdued
This herd instinct is prevalent
on all our routes [even inutile
one] – we’ll be forced a retreat
with mumbles & blown sighs –
We’ll dip again under lowered
branches & curse our courses
[others took this obvious way
& also failed] – I pointed to his
boot-prints – trailing off – into
a pond – never turned around
Among English woodlands we
traipse without a map to hand
[or signs to guide] – no wonder
then that grownup men astray