This route took me far into the fields,
neighbouring the barley that waltzed
in the wind. A path arose ahead. Down
one side stood a lush, cushy hedge, thick
enough to block the sunlight, delicately soft
to sleep upon. The other side offered a view
of the fields afar, the open roads and paths
that wound and scribbled the countryside.
It was blocked, however. Down the length
of the path ran a wire netting, a metal grid
sharp and barbed, eight feet high, skirted
with weeds and dirt and cement foundation.

Despite this being the first time walking the route,
I knew this path well, with one side offering
blind comfort and stability,
and the other of a true world,
and an inaccessible beauty.