First run with the river.
Flatland fat sheep, gnawing on ground.
Traffic crunching hastily down valley.
In the open the river alongside running away.
Lolloping limbs rise and fall below me.
The corridor of the forest sucks me into it's centre.
Comfortable cysgodi and sticky soles beneath.
The river now beyond foliage lies in limbo - still.
Moss flocked roots, finger-like, flow below.
Rough skeletal frames knee deep in nettles.
Drumlin-like domes at the base of a vine wrapped rock-face.
Invisible Mock Orange aromatic cloud.
Doe skinned wrinkled fitness face.
Eye level swans flapping down valley.
Bright broccoli topped woodlands invite my hands to caress.