Walking and watching
We beat a territory, my dog and I. Sometimes we revisit the same route day after day, week after week, as I find myself compelled to watch in minute detail how things change. But we cover most of it every month, criss-crossing fields, marsh, woods and riverbank, from spring to summer, from autumn to the bitter end of winter.
The dog roams and runs, sniffing, knowing, depositing, chasing, leading her mystery life of sight, sound and olfaction. I talk to my ghosts and photograph what I see. Sensations during these walks develop into poems.
I was a child in the country but for more than three decades lived in the city. I have brought my city self and my history here, to a life in a field, where I have found a rhythm for reflection, a spark to light new fires.