I push open the creaking wooden gate,
my black Labrador squeezing through beside me
and trotting off ahead.
We follow the well-trodden footpath
across the field.
On either side of the path
the wild grass grows free and unkempt
as tall as my waist,
swaying in time with the breeze
like all-night ravers with their hands in the air.
My boot splashes through a muddy puddle,
the dog scamps and sniffs
head buried ears-deep in the long grass,
birds sing and warble in the trees
all around me.
As I lose myself in this perfect pocket of countryside,
it’s almost possible to ignore and tune out
the whoosh and rush of the cars
whizzing down the dual carriageway
on the other side of the trees.