Take a run up, and freewheel inwards, gathering speed.

Slopes and angles rise around you.

Make a connection, with Murdoch and Lil.

A headscarf, caught in wind.

Are you marching, or speeding

On tarmac, not driven this way before?

Outwards, Wolds are rising, outlets spilling to seas,

Waterways westwards, replaced by roads,

Link you backwards or forwards.

Stride above dissecting traffic, laden lorries.

Brick and fascia, angles and slopes,

Tilt your head and feel time revolve.

Do you hear a voice speak here?

Or just the hum of a passing truck?

Who walks these streets beside you?

Who treads this boundary line?

Inside these walls are memories stacked.

Add your own. Raise a glass.

Or stand outside, looking in.

Whose voices do you hear sing?

Is there a rising here?

As a tide – of bodies or feeling?

Ebb and flow. Giving and taking.

Are there signs of life?

A yearning? An aching?