the train
made its way
slowly
north
skyscrapers
motorways
allotments
canals
bridges
gave way
to
open fields
fringed
by mossy dykes
old windmills
souvenirs
pass
now
beshadowed
as tall
white
slowly
turning
blades
pillar
the land
pierce
the wide
all sweeping sky
lazily turning
I rest my head
against the window
sleepily wondering
will it be as last year
when walking
North Sea dykes
restored my health
my faith
in futures
past
for this may be
where my people
came from
centuries before
when war
stalked
these fens
not willow whisps
and deep deep sand
perhaps
after all
it's true
as piercing winds
cut me
to the bone
in this open
sea ridden
defiant
land
I find
my feet
again
