Reblogged from Tallis Steelyard:

I can remember my first sight of the estuary road. It’s a short length of cobbled road, the cobbles laid between timbers and the timbers held in place by great piles driven into the mud. There’s not much left of it nowadays, and the older shore-combers will tell you that they can remember when there was more. Perhaps another century or so will see its final disappearance.

A road

Hard driven

Across the mud

Timbers riven

And bowed.

Sets squared

Once bearing

The passing traffic

Clog wearing

Heads bared

The route decided

What destination

Drew them seawards

Poetic cunctation

Elucidation not provided.

I suppose that like everybody else who saw it occasionally I didn’t think much about it. After all, it was just there. But like everybody else, I’d never walked along it. Somehow you just didn’t.

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