NaPM, April 9, 2020

[Keith]

Postcard from the backseat

Its the same 4am start as every year,
the cold hard shiver of plastic car doors
rattled down miles of motorway.
Field mist making shapes on dark horizons

Warmth finally brings a sleeping bag
and zips me in a frenzied dream
as I fall from one branch to the next
dogs circle on the ground below.

I wake in Somerset,
blinded by rapeseed in blaze of yellow.
There are few sights more wonderful,
than a field of flowers to remind me
I have escaped the pastels of concrete.

I crack the window and join the dog
as we sniff the ocean together,
its scent rides the coast road
all the way to the welcome sign.
and apparently we've made it in good time.

Whoever you are I wish you were here
to watch the trawlers take their colours
and wash them with the tide at first light.
Today I sat among the nesting gulls
a warm breeze folding back my feathers
I made my bed in heather, lay back
under a big sky and felt the faint tremor
of waves pounding on the rocks below.

Well I'm sorry but I've got to go
so please tell someone I said hello.