Wild Walks of Home

Here, nature is tame. 

Fences and bushes and well-cut paths. 

Nothing like the wild walks of home. 

Where brambles claw at your ankles, 

desperately reaching out from the undergrowth.

Where the wind leaves your face slapped, 

blustering in a wall from the north.  

Where cliffs take lives,  

and craggy rocks fall,  

into oceans, stony grey,  

home, to all. 

Here, there are gulls,  

who must not be fed. 

Squirrels live neatly, 

no dolphin rears its head.  

Nothing like the wild walks of home. 

Where life has a stench,  

reeking without care, 

taking up space,  

because it's always been there.  

Before cobblestones and concrete,  

lived bracken and peat,  

Before sidewalks and zombies,  

There were bare feet.

Oh, wild walks of home! 

How I miss your stink, your power,

Now I find nature in parks with bowers, 

and whilst I may find peace here,

I'll always know,  

of real nature, of my nature,  

Oh, wild walks of home.