I wish a train would come - it’s cold concrete
and a spiky morning hedge turning black to green
in winter light. Where is our bloody train?
We need to move away, transmute this muted scene!
But everything is flat in early dawn
and cold - so people hop and stamp (not in a pirouette)
because, loose or stiff, we dance like kids
who haven’t learnt their choreography yet.
Although this train is 3 then 5 then 10 minutes late
there are people, one or two,
who carry green-blue lamps behind their lids
knowing, if they look, a train will come;that light comes shining through.