Contented we carve through countryside- Bound for town, for reality, for bed. Beyond the window now a mellow unfolding: Patchwork hedgerows- artichoke barriers around kelly-green grass, Steady slow turn of white windmills, Horizon haze, heat shimmering, Steep valley drops beyond brick bridges. Delays in departure no issue, Each station a saint and we draw patience from them. We’ve washed away city stress in capri-blue breakwater, Now immune, immersed, impervious. We’ll be back when we’re back, We’ll move when we move. Onward once more: Ancient fir forests speckled with sunlight, Sitting sheep and loud-jumpered golfers, And now the finale, the crescendo- Brunel’s Royal Albert, the Hamoaze and home.
