dew on fearn
i'm up early
my ankles wet
and grass marks stain
where i fell

behind me
a playing field
a rugby club
men skidding in mud
training
gasping
tired

the cheap wire
shot with holes
by the river
before
the council estate
is quiet on sunday mornings

an old man cycles past
a load on back
a sense of loss
he sounds his bicycle bell
what vague drum

more dogs with wet faces
and no collars
play with packaging
of old brands that sound fake
their owners calling out
help!

i'm here
beyond the well known
by signs of danger
and the bridges crossing it
moving far away
from touching
grasp

one sunday morning