chain coral Chorus
R. M. Francis, The Black Country Geological Society and the University of Wolverhampton Early Research Award Scheme is excited to present this guest blog by poet, novelist, performer and Wolverhampton Poet Laureate , Emma Purshouse. In this specially commissioned poem and blog post, Purshouse guides us through the Black Country Geosite, Wightwick Wedge and Smestow Valley. Wightwick Wedge and Smestow Valley Slink with me down this tarmacked path between two schools to trip trap over a gruff bridge, climb the grassy bank past a managed pond where once the heron and I mourned lost mangrove murkiness. I’ll point out steel barring the route I used to walk, tell how that way skirts a crater where men once quarried narrow twists of gravel. We’ll head instead down thicket corridors, find light and open ground on the cut’s offside where dogs wade in from little beaches to bark at ducks. Baring right, we’ll cross the field, pass behind allotments, turn left at Tiger Wok, a second left to slip between Aston Bentley Interiors and the Oddfellows, and swing through iron gate to towpath. On the way to Dimmingsdale there will be kingfishers, grey wagtails, and you can spin for perch if you’ve a mind. At Wightwick I’ll show you the valley at its most obvious, how the only way is up on both sides of the Bridgnorth Road. I’ll tell of how one winter night I left the Mermaid at last orders to hear snow melt and glaciers in the Smestow’s rush. At Mopps Farm we’ll detour, climb tree root steps, take bridle path around Pool Hall, watch courting grebes flirt with bivvy boys. Down Dimmo we’ll eye the waterworks where my granddad used to work, and I’ll regale you with my scant knowledge of bore holes and artesian wells. A boat might pass, heading towards Wombourn(e), where Orton Ridge rises. I will tell of Rocky lock where you might graze your face on folds of orange sandstone as you work to wind paddles. At evening’s approach we’ll leave, follow loop of lane towards Lower Penn, find the disused railway line that will transport us back to the city. And even though you are with me I’ll keep my phone in my hand, keys between my fingers as we walk this path where panthers lurk, and little girls should never go alone. We're also delighted to share this beautiful film of the geosite, by photographer and filmmaker, Nicole Lovell. This offers a gorgeous sensory view of the place. Crows over Smestow Valley
Each winter dusk and dawn they come mob-handed, streaming in over the canal and the fluttering tennis courts, to gather above this ragged street, caw at empty playgrounds. Black paths fracture the sky above our erratic homes. Murder settling on roof tops, stirring aerials and furious slates. And in their cracked scrub song, their gravel eyes is the rise and fall of land, cold seas, long nights, the glacier’s slow slow bite. Emma Purshouse Poet Laureate for the City of Wolverhampton Comments are closed.
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January 2022
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