KENIDJACK VALLEY

 

A place which still recaptures

Nostalgia lost

From a busy life, which cost

The magic of West Cornwall.

The many, mundane, measured days

 

Have marginalized the mystery

The reason why I came

Recaptured once again

In Kenidjack Valley.

 

Come with me, while I take you

From scrabbly heights to boggy depths

Targeting that beckoning V

Whilst to the right the waterfall

Instructs our amble to the sea.

 

The tricky path through tangled grass

Jumps down

Through boulders brown

While curly bracken harbours dark

The hungry mineshafts, waiting.

 

Next a right turn, then a left

The path leaps downwards

Dampness rises, shade deprives

A trickle, a pond

A flat, wide, saturated path.

 

The stepping stones, the tree bowed low

The wooden bridge o'er rivers flow

Looking back the way we came, I see

The Garden of Eden.

                               Mitzi King.