Venturing out into the marsh ...

I found a path, wavering through the marshes, away from the road - leaving my three companions behind me, I made my way towards the distant waters of the Firth - 

Cattle and sheep grazed, surefooted, on bright green islands of pasture, separated by winding channels - I jumped over ribbons of silky glistening mud - 

I remembered, as a bare legged boy, playing amongst the mud flats off Priddy's Hard in Gosport - I'd paddled in calm lagoons, watching the tide rise, covering the curving banks of ooze - 

I'd felt happy, free from care, floating empty oil drums along the scrubby shore, exploring the secret ways between the thickets of bramble and alder - 

Those hours came back to me as I ventured further out, far from the road - I wondered what had happened to the boys who'd built dens and splashed through puddles with me - 

I cast off these thoughts before melancholy fell upon me - 

I went out as far as I could - water started welling up in my footsteps - I was still far from the bright Firth - sea birds flew above my head - 

Reluctantly I turned back, making my way back to the road - as I did so, I felt my years return, coiling around me like beautiful snakes -

I saw three small dark figures waiting for me - 

11.45

15 July 2014

The marshes 

Boustead Hill 

Cumbria