A poem in praise of the Downs
Down Along All Along Down Along Way
Downland beckons soft and rolling;
Mother lies there, ever calling.
Flint and chalk form solid base.
For ramblers, all with hearty pace
Trod ancient paths: since Roman days
Wove their patterns like Hampton’s maze.
In summer bliss or winter gales
When sun beats down or hailstones flail,
The Downs aloof to weather fierce;
Resistant skin to prick or pierce,
Contours made o’er the years long past,
Capture light, like Henry Moore cast.
Never tiring of the vistas they bring,
Simple, serene: just a beautiful thing.
Only rabbits find strife in the furrows,
Oft forced to flee deep into burrows.
Bright furze and gorse hide warrens galore,
Where does mate and multiply by the score.
To walk or to run within these folds,
Like womb gives comfort and safely holds. Subconscious therapy, more or less,
Playing mind through body, games of chess; Nature exalted by end of the day,
Down along, all along, down along way.