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A Walk Through The Woods To The Sea
As I breathe in the wild garlic woods
I resurrect a memory.
In bursts of fiery vision
Both eyes and nostrils
Recall the path
Descending without haste
From cornfield to woodland dell
To fern and rill
Beneath the high arches
Of the viaduct
Soft tread over the bracken-strewn turf
Beside the bubbling beck
To meet the waiting waves
On that bleached beach
Promising not only present joy
But with purpose
Though without foreknowledge
Building a cornerstone
Of my being
Nature’s Marble Halls
Erected to sustain life
To ensure that richness of experience
This continuity of pleasure
Which brings meaning now
When I had thought
Only the memory remained
Roland's Ragbag 
Beautifully done
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Your comment is much appreciated. Thank you, Derrick.
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I read this with awe and pleasure. You bring joy and beauty to the senses as you
walk through the woods to the sea. I love to hear your positive part of the last the last stanza. ” This continuity of pleasure
Which brings meaning now
When I had thought
Only the memory remained ”
Thank you Roland
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Thank you, Miriam. It is a strong memory of a walk I once did frequently on the North Yorkshire coast which was vividly brought to mind recently when walking through patches of wild garlic in woods in the south of England.
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Certainly brings back memories of Bishopston Valley, Gower, in the spring. The scent is unforgettable.
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There is certainly a recalled memory of some scents. That of burning horse’s hoof is one of mine. My father was a farrier.
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I loved standing in the forge at King’s Landing and watching them work. And yes, that really is a smell you never forget. They closed the forge to horses because some American tourists were complaining that the horses were getting hurt.
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