For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

Saturday, 20 February 2016

To Where Does It Lead, This Walking?


To where does it lead, this walking? Past sea-lashed stacks and blocky towers of granite, shattered into cubes, to wind-bashed headlands drenched in spume and spray. Through lush-green tunnels of feathery tamarisk, humid as the tropics, wet-warm as rainforests, dripping with hart's tongue ferns and frothy with meadowsweet.

Read more of my Cornish-coast-path prose poem at Roselle Angwin's Qualia and Other Wildlife . . .

3 comments:

Amanda Summer said...

To the sea, eventually some sea, it seems our footpaths ultimately lead.

The Solitary Walker said...

Yes, I think that's where we'll all ultimately end up, Amanda.

sackerson said...

I missed that! I liked the way the ending stepped out of the moment, taking in a huge expanse of time. Interesting that it can have that effect, walking, given that walking is firmly rooted in time. But then, music is very time-rooted, too, and it can have a similar effect. One could riff on the rhythm of walking, 4' 33", etc., but as I'm only armed with a tablet-prodder, I won't!