A quiet place
where swans come to rest
And horses graze
Villages sit
above flood waters
A prairie scene from a Western
But it is too green
disused railway
disused canal
parallel well used road edge
the quiet place
Men shirts off play cards
In caravan park
Where women check
Washings dryness
Karts distant revs
Climb green hill
Between green blades
Ground is slag
Horizons triangulation points up close
Plaqued monuments
To abandoned mine shafts
Nearby empty new industrial units
A woman holds a breadbag
for the horses to nuzzle
‘I enjoy feeding the horses
But they’re not mine.
I don’t know whose they are.’
A swan
A swan
The Wombwell Rainbow 
Your poem is evocative. Your images, while much seems privately introspective, are otherwise clean and clear. I like the unity of starting with swans resting and horses grazing and ending with the horses being fed and following with “Swans … Swans”. Compelling.
Thank you for your marvellous positive comments. I value any comments about my poems very highly.