27 April 2017


Air beats in abstract rhythms against my cheeks 
Streams of green swirl by either side like psychedelic blinkers 
Horns bleep and my heart leaps 
But all that hits us is the hot smell of rubber as the lorry moves slowly past

The blue peeps through and the tips tops are gleaming 
But we are climbing
Coat gripped snugly under my chin I look down and see toy towns 
A borrowers world amidst a giants land, soon the descent 

Waves of glistening green tessellate
Three dimensional fingerprints identify the nation 
Cascading in liquefying motion  
We too move downwards

At last flat land rolls out in front of us 
From a dot on the mountains crest to two sore thumbs, aliens from the west
A team of rosy cheeked school children hop skip jump and wave 
Two cocks fight in a cage and a woman carries far more than she should for her age 

Raw honest extraordinary culture washes over us in welcoming waves 
Heart rates slow, shoulders drop and ears pop
As finally we slow to a stop.

- Lucy Atkins

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