This is an experimental poem (at least for me) in that it is written in a conversational and blank form, copying the message carved into the bench, and relying on the imagery of carved wood and carved land, ancient time as opposed to a moment in time. The bench is on a walk along the River Mersey, near to Millgate Fields, in Didsbury, Manchester, a couple of miles from my home. Strangely, the last time I visited this spot I couldn’t find Clint’s carving on the bench.