Friday, September 13, 2013

Not quite Adlestrop

Emerging from a tunnel, the train slows to a gentle halt.
Bare rails alongside are linked by concrete sleepers,
Bearing the word Tarmac: unlikely thought.

Evening sunlight highlights drifting willowherb seeds
Carried on a lack of breeze; bullied by exhaust
From between silent wheels.

Green banks enclose us in leafy isolation
Half-way from there to somewhere else.
Nowhere in particular.

And not even a station sign to inform our location.


Hilary Melton-Butcher said...

Hi Anne - were you visiting Adlestrop ... sounds an amazing little place - what a fun and sad poem ..

Cheers Hilary

MorningAJ said...

Actually I was on my way back from a meeting in Manchester. We were just outside a lovely spot called Totley (which has a VERY long railway tunnel). It just felt like Adlestrop, the poem.