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As Into the Shadow of a Field
A poem about returning to a place that was familiar to you as a child.
As Into the Shadow of a Field
My car’s brakes squeal of metal being ground,
an echo from when it was first cast by heavy plant.
The engine shudders to a halt I step out of;
the scent of rubber, petrol, the slammed door
disturb the shadow of the field I’d fled to:
each step steps deeper into the echo
of childhood. Through the five-barred gate,
I see the sub-station the board planted
among cow pats. Red zig-zags signs fastened
to gun-grey metal warn of volts, of danger,
and hook up a cacophony of light, machines, hot water -
distant for the moment. My ego hums like this burr
in on-going shakes: what am I doing here?
How do I connect? The questions spread
against distant barbed-wire boundaries.
Like the madness those too-large rabbits dance,
close to their warren’s safety, or thistles,
purple-strong, waving, rooted…
