Friday, 27 June 2014

Branched Off



 Engineering works.
We slow to a dawdle,
our intercity train
branched off ,
abruptly god-forsaken.

We shunt past a derelict factory.
Grey clouds are moving
faster than we can.
Only weeds travel on this
wartime airfield; its runways
slowly slipping under grass.
Water stagnates in ditches;
even the river
can hardly be bothered
to shift to the sea.

A man in a signal box
pulls wooden levers.
He changes the points
but it makes no difference,
we have plenty of time
to observe the speed
limit. 10 mph.
We wonder why they don’t electrify
lines like these
as we stop,

think of Adlestrop,
watch
sunlight
on a rusting signal
somewhere in  Lincolnshire.


© Sue Norton

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