Commons image
By Julie Hogg
you learn patience whilst the level crossing is in operation, the common sense of lower emissions, the diligence of each driver,
their passengers’ refreshment in a new view, freight sprinting through like you ran when you were younger, you value the fairness of equidistance,
how you’re always on the threshold of a journey, sometimes you stayed and fought despite your flight default, learned how to hold a line,
then you wonder why you’ve never asked your brother if his lifelong career was inspired by hot-rolled steel running through his town,
between the racecourse and the sea, 6.42 until 23.03, under essential pedestrian bridges, over East Halt and the library underpass, why are those dogs off their leads on the track?
This evening, succulents dampen on the sill above terre verte tiles, condensation glazes matte frost glass, over playing fields and poplar tops warns the staccato two-tone horn
– it’s the way snow melts immediately upon impact in a coastal zone.
