with lark dots twit­ter­ing aloft
in a blue-frac­tured cloudscape
the skin sur­face heat of fear
when on strength­less legs
he sets off between
hedgerows of almond-scent­ed gorse
to face the always unknown

trac­tors in fields all around
theirs a sea­son­al urgency
rota­vat­ing, har­row­ing, seed-drilling
rolling and rais­ing a teeth-sticking
red dust this dry spring

a super­sti­tious dis­trust of the adren­a­lin rush
he knows that sand­bags and body armour
are no guar­an­tee of pro­tec­tion but
a thought of what comes after the unknown
— phone call to be made, bill to be paid -
grants momen­tar­i­ly a necessary
  notion of invincibility

 

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