Who Is Pat McGee?

The long mile stretches out on both sides of me

Emerald green grass mixed with fallen leaves and mud

The vibrancy of the verdant ground surprises me

We’ve been in a drought

But it seems the recent rains have brought vitality back to the land

I find myself

On what must have been

An old railroad line

No tracks left

No traces

Except for maybe the flatness

The sheer flatness

That stretches out beside me

There are small hills that line the trail

More mud

Mixed with shrubs whose names I do not know

Besides that rose bush I saw

A while back

Most of its leaves gone

With thorns bare to the world

And a couple of bright red rose hips

Almost obscene in their invitation

To know them

This place

Doesn’t feel

Special

But I’m sure it is

To someone

I appreciate that it’s been allowed to rewild

As if our permission to do so is required

But it is

In its own right

A beautiful place

Filled with a very

Beige

Energy

One that’s not too jarring

But also not too calming

Maybe the echoes of the trains remain

Whistles and movement and steam and smoke

Maybe they never cease

Maybe this is all a dream

And this is just

A long ditch

Alongside

A busy road.