Wolves by Lucy Poole


A visit from a narrow boat was my Wolves-at-first site.  Like many, here for the uni, Molineux or beer.

For me, it was Dr Bird's project at the art school for black country dreamers.

MK's studio-time sandwiched by ring-road-gazing tea breaks. Solidarity in the exchange of ideals and hopes.

Learning to sew, draw, weld & create.  Honing 'how to' from patient technicians, lecturers & mates.

Knowing the pleasure in learning. That buzz.  Dancing the message to teach what I'd learnt...

to mine, to others, who are now grown, through community, grass roots developing each seed sown.

Down the hill, past Banks and taking one of Chapel Ash's tines.  The maltings catch the wind on laps back from the hive

The city's shiny & new have a temporary feel but the sturdy permanence of heritage, canals and churches is real.

There is poverty of money and of time. There are those who work hard to make things better, put things right.

In their prosper, there are parents who parent for two.  Their labours in the next generation will bear fruit still.

Friends made here are solid, wise 'Salt of the earth', generous with teaching, challenge & mirth.

Energy broadcast by youth through drama:  in the park, on your doorstep or by the Man on the horse

Its a destination of growth, song & green-space, bold neighbours with stories to tell and ears ready for yours.

Wolves:  a place to fall in love with creating, the arts, faiths, diversity and with all who choose to remain.


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