the road heads down rather pretty in sunrise afterglow
out of shadows
steam rises from waiting horses
passengers each silent alone in chilly morning
relaxing for the jolting commute
jarring thundering down to town
where steeples and towers and cobbles
are a red orange brown and grey
from green and purple groves and gardens
sounds of metal hammering steam and shouting join bird songs
around the channel to deep oceans
where markets are made.
now jump down and walk
with women and men whose names you may know
