Kensington Basement
Pedestrian views from a downstairs window
The street-level grille cuts
walkers at the waist
flecks of sun fleshing
out the picture as they flash
past the window
& after a while you become
expert at ankles, fancy footwear —
ribbons, ties & laces, patent leather
but only from foot to thigh
It’s hard not to think
chickens or genitals or foot fetishes—
more healthily —
a lifetime of walking
gravel paths & baking hills
a slipstream on the Seine
I long since discovered the gentle
roll of Somerset vales
sharply-inclined Dorset cliffs
chalky white island’s edge
& my own alma mater as a youth
the Midlands’ Malvern Hills
I backpacked with my daughter across
the north of Spain only to argue
inflamed by hot plains & hard hills
yet cooling our heels by evening
blaming soreness underfoot
Occasionally I go it alone
traipse the old way
a pilgrim staunched by
prayer & meaningful encounters
meeting those I will never see again
enjoying the shared camaraderie
gift of walkers & bikers everywhere
gifts only available on the road
Copyright Simon Heathcote
