I feel Like an ancient villager

Blessed with the gift of time

To walk from Woods Mill to the rising Sun

And chronicle it in rhyme

Sharing the space with butterflies and buzzards

Admiring the view of Chanctonbury Ring

A patch of shade a well earned treat

for the river too low to dip feet in

Escaping the road and the speeding cars Immersed in the rustle of grass

I wonder about our history

and how time has come to pass

I pause to ponder an unusual styal

and think of others that have walked through here

and wonder, if them like I

were thinking of an ice cold beer