I fell out of a doze and beyond the bus window were fields and slow hills that disappeared into hesitant rain. Green grasses, yellow grasses, lines of vulnerable trees. Fences of wooden beams surrounding barrows. A whole sky. Police tape tangled in a tree's fingers. Winter apples on leafless branches. Crows and pheasants picking at turned dirt. A bemused flock of seagulls sitting among the sheep. Moss and lichen on all walls. School uniforms at the bus stop. The wait staff laughed at my desperation for a cup of tea and beamed at my reaction to lunch. Pedestrians lacking urgency.
New eyes. New breath.
Walking up Milford Street I heard birds.
Welcome to the real England. - M
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