A1

Dreary tarmac, droning engine,
Travelling to a micro fair,
Conversation’s none existent,
Look through the window, see what’s there.

Multicoloured motor vehicles
Gaily dance their wheeled gavottes,
Coloured like a Seurat canvas,
Accelerating micro dots.

Bright-striped, predatory police cars
Make the moving mural slow,
Concrete bridges prowl the highway,
Pounce on us then let us go.

Winds that comb the verges tresses
Lend the trees balletic grace,
Set the saplings shivering, shimmering,
Make the dog rose turn her face.

Dancing daisies, bobbing, popping,
Enter the A1-mighty dance,
Prancing poppies, startling scarlet,
Pas-de-deux then look askance.

Wanton weeds writhe like Salome
To the music of the breeze,
Casting veils of seeds and pollen,
Offered in homage to the trees.

Thorny hedgerows, near immobile,
Close their rapier-bearing ranks,
Washing waves in watery wheat fields
Splash upon the grassy banks.

Spiky, sparkling, bight-green meadows
Grazed by cows in monochrome,
Fresh-sheared ewes with portly offspring
Fleck the emerald sea with foam.

Dreary tarmac, droning engine,
Travelling to a micro fair,
Conversation’s none existent,
Through the window, beauty’s there.

© Lynne Joyce, 1983.