This is one of the Poems taken from Dorrie Johnson's Book
Minders of The Monarch's Way
Forget dark-suited men
whose padded shoulders reach their ears;
forget their gloves and shades,
and, because you've watched TV,
forget the armpit bulge where you might guess
a gun is hidden.
These folk have outdoor faces,
friendly eyes; their hiking boots,
beneath the latest mud,
gleam with Dubbin shine;
their rucksacks carry notepads and one,
at least, of Antill's books.
They are custodians of a length
of path, maintain its health,
report on obstacles,
on flood destruction,
change of routes.
They re-mark ways
if signs become obscured or disappear.
They keep the path alive.