My teenage, borne in urban scape by serendipity, in stealth, effected move to moorland heath. Mount orange box, guide skipping rope, bold pavement swerves, clipped city kerbs, week’s shopping bags, strewn apples, leeks - old go-cart gave way, hiking boots, that axle burn turned abseil hold.
I longed for yells, clear crowds from path, big points for scare, here mine alone - heard belay calls, rock climbing face, slow rise to rush adrenalin. Nail granite bite, one toe tip grip, supplanted by wind rush, tor top, curbed charm of snaking coil below, saw route, sail reservoir, canoe.
Words tack and boom, with crampon spikes, set rhyming slang took on fresh voice, with burr and rolling singing slurs, an adolescent culture twist. Across the tracks, my circuit mates, paroled their streets, fixed terms fulfilled; but I, transferred to peat moss, grouse, had no complaints, new venture paths.
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