Rodborough Fields Under Threat

Rodborough Fields in Space and Time

I like the way the hidden springs gather force,

A wild winter rush down the meadow side,

The wind singing in the saplings’ rigging

On the water’s voyage to the treasured Frome,

Thence on to the Severn and the ocean.

One glance is enough to enhance our lives,

And to make us feel a part of it all,

Both spiritually and globally,

Impossible thoughts with pipes and culverts:

Diminished lives.

I like the way the path of a low winter sun

Highlights the shadow of ridge and furrow,

A medieval landscape’s palimpsest;

I can see the ghost of Piers Plowman,

His footprints fresh in the frosted fields.

One glance is enough to enhance our lives,

And to make us feel a part of it all,

Spiritually and historically,

Impossible thoughts with bricks and mortar:

Diminished lives.

So why not build homes on brownfield sites,

So that these new families will also

Be able to feel a part of it all,

Walking the fields with undiminished lives,

Not listening to the car radio,

Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi”:

“Don’t it always seem to go

That you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone,

They paved Paradise and put up a parking lot.”