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We left the rain behind,
sky stretched out lakes and seas of blue

banks of tall white daisies,
gladdening the verges,
breathtaking in sudden crowds.

as we drive into sun,
Santana heaven,
vacation loosening the ligatures of duty,
escaping into timelessness,
cloud flocks above the power station chimneys,
the road filled with urgent Sunday drivers.

Then roadworks thrown up long dykes,
topped with weeds in for the long haul;
poppies fly their flags astride
while the orange and yellow plant
are silent sentinels;
a stack of big black plastic pipes play aeolian
as yellow aliens atop their gantries
ogle down to say:
"You will be lucky to get away
with a Speed Awareness Course today,
if you try it on!"

After the mess of Nottingham
we are spat out on the Grantham road.

Those cloud flocks loom up nearer,
shining on their slow way as if poised
between wing beats;
and we sailing pacifically,
the sun at our back, flooding
everything with perfect cinematic light.


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