Seen on the A1

One eye's corner
momentarily mesmerised
by kestrel.
Librarian of the motorway,
curator of hard shoulder curiosities,
keeper of rodent details,
classifier of mice.
Throb of engines no match
for a vole's heartbeat,
smell of compact flesh
stronger than exhaust fumes.

The concentration of centuries
held in your piercing frame
trivialises traffic,
mocks humanity.


This isn't the A1. It's much nicer...