Not so peaceful
Or soul inspiring
As the bombing range
But at least
I can get a pot of tea
A Cornish pasty
And listen to conversations
Of people deciding where to go next
Even discussing making a list
Of holidays they have been on
 |
| Available on Amazon |
This side of the sea
In a field
Which the farmer
Has already harvested
The geese forage noisily
Occasionally
Perhaps due to some disturbance
They rise into the sky
For their own military-style manoeuvres
This is my reward
For even though I am wearing inappropriate footwear
(Leather-soled brogues with steel heels)
I have walked the kilometre or so
Along the side of Wainfleet Bombing Range
The geese are going somewhere
I can hear them
I can see them
I can smell their food
In the farmers
Turned over fields
The moles
Are also on the move
Everywhere I go
I see their hills
And wonder
Does the frost draw them to the surface
Several flocks of geese
Group together
Fly in formation
Before landing in the field
Then they walk in turn
To drink of the fresh water
I was surrounded
By the sound
Of jet aircraft
Out on manœuvres
Also above
A flight
From Manchester
To Istanbul
Further down the drain
In the skies far distance
A longer range aeroplane
On its way to Montreal
Unfortunately
When I reached the road
I had to dodge the cars and the wagons
For there were no pavements
What does it matter
When and where mistakes were made
Or even if good decisions were taken
All that is important is the here and now
I have a feeling that it is over
I am being let down gently
Isn’t that what they say
I had intended to write all day
Then my son rang
To say he might have diabetes
And the postman knocks at my door
To deliver my mind journal
A little extravagance, or maybe not
I did think to ask you
If I had said anything wrong
Or done something I shouldn’t have
Also, in the greater scheme of things
Perhaps I should try
To keep the conversation going