By Rail Through Somerset

When Meg posted her intentional noticings on a train journey to Poznan, I told her about my scribbles on a train. Being Meg of course she wanted to read it, so I’m re-blogging this post from 2011.

Lucid Gypsy


country gulls flushed by the 10.53

arrow  from fields with frosty periphery

like yuletide tinsel under threadbare trees

lamb filled ewes  felted and jacketed

join blanketed ponies to nibble on nothing

awaiting a ride or a jar of mint sauce

depart the Levels undulating uphill

where railway huts stand derelict lonesome

the sizzle of pylons shoot towards ozone

old man’s beard helplessly clings to dense hide

of hedge where Roe stags lurk in dank

acres furrowed and ready  for spring

spires crack the  mist near burst  banks

where Saturday shoals of angling young men

stand fishing

and wishing

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