Writing White Coppice

Yesterday I attended a writing workshop sponsored by the folks from Rainy City Stories at one of the local libraries in Wigan. It was a poetry writing workshop where the focus of our writing was to be about 'place' and its meaning for us. I hadn't thought about it in that way, but really 'place' has played an unusually important part in my life lately, my being an emigre and all. Anyway, our first task was to write a triolet (sounds like "Frito Lay"), a poem with certain repeating lines. I chose to write about White Coppice, a place I wrote about on this blog in a very early post. Here is my triolet (my ode to White Coppice) and a couple more pictures from a visit there.

Because it gave me my first vista of England's North West
I love White Coppice
Each time you visit, it feels like a new discovery
Because it gave me my first vista of England's North West
Like stumbling onto Niagara Falls for the first time
with a cricket field stuck in time, stuck in my head
Because it gave me my first vista of England's North West
I love White Coppice