Somewhere in Dorset

Time to sit a spell   

on a crumbling

dry-moss milestone.

 

Ahead,

the road dips and bends

like other roads bend and dip.

 

Ahead,

milestones and gravestones

and faded-varnish benches,

 

‘In memory of...’

 

And then, and then,

bouquet-brightened benches,

 

‘Bide a wee.’

 

Gravestones and milestones

and bends and dips.

 

Time to gather my ragtag bundle

 

Time to sit a spell.

 

◄ I slept with a girl

And so with a sigh ►

Comments

<Deleted User> (21487)

Sun 10th Mar 2019 11:49

I think that
"grave stones and milestones" gave the game away

Dorothy

Rick

Sun 10th Mar 2019 11:41

A few people have thought this Dorset pome is gentle - it was, when I wrote it, an fatalist expression of doubt, fear, resignation; the 'I' character has reached a milestone - say 70 years of age - and cannot face continuing the trek through life - its ups, downs, disappointments any longer. So is sitting it out.

The trick (and here I think it succeeds), is to make it appear bucolic and placid whereas it is an expression of gigantic rage perhaps... but rage at what? 😃

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