Still only the beginning of winter, the days of a late-rising sun and dew-frosted grass;
A sudden memory of how delightful it was to leave a trail of footprints on such grass – for a kid in Africa it was the closest I’d ever get to snow.
Trains of thought have no schedule and this one takes a side-line – I suddenly realise, and it’s not just my imagination, that the world used to be a safer place, that there are fields and fields where I couldn’t leave my footprints today if I were a 9yr old, and I was alone.
And it’s not local, and it’s not political – it’s everywhere.
In nearly every country there are trails of foot-prints left in sand and snow, and on dew-frosted grass, but no 9yr olds to be found at the ends of them.
I think we broke the world. (2007)