School Run

I hadn’t been there in a while. I went
after the school run on my way back home,
turned right instead of left and crossed the road,
then took the path that winds its merry way
above the village. I could feel the fight
with gravity in leg and lung, but kept
on going. As the gradient began
to ease I reached the hilltop through the trees.
The air was fresh, rinsed out by recent storms,
with deep cut channels in the ground beneath
the only evidence of last night’s rain
which prised the lingering grip of summer’s hand
clearing the way for Autumn to take hold.
I turned, casting a prayer over the town,
gave blessing to the Oak, then made my way
back down, this time with gravity as friend,
and home to start the day, to start again.

(c) Rich Clarkson 2024