A sideways slip of balance brings us,
almost un-noticing,
into this new atmosphere.

I hear lorries on the motorway
humming drone-songs through skinny air.
I’m sure they’re moving faster,
urgent now to be somewhere.

Driving home in defected daylight
past budding trees on Spinney Lane:
the uncurling Spring is here.

 


 

Marc Woodward has been writing mainly poetry (& sometimes manly poetry) for many years. He has been published in various anthologies and small magazines. His work often references his life and surroundings in rural Devon as well as his activities as a musician. More of his poetry can be seen on his blog www.marcwoodwardpoetry.blogspot.com

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