This Isn't the Sort of Thing That Happens to Someone Like You

People are not drawn here by the romantic sound of the place.

People don’t much come here at all, and so the landscape

remains empty and

retains its beauty and

the beauty of this place is not in the names but the shapes

the flatness / hugeness / completeness of the landscape.

Only what is beneath the surface of the earth is hidden

(and sometimes not even that)

and everything else is made visible beneath the sky.

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When the dawn comes

when the first light slides in from the east

the sky is the colour of marbles.

A thin, glassy grey.

Everything is dark away to the west,

silhouettes & shadows clinging to the last of the night,

but at the eastern edge of the horizon there is light.

And If you have the time to stand and watch,

you can trace the movement of the light into the morning.

The lines of fields & roads creeping

towards you and then away to the west

until the whole geometry of the day is revealed.

And The water in the drains begins to steam & shine.

And you’ll notice The workers start to arrive,

stepping out from minibuses and spreading across the fields,

shadows crouching & shuffling

along the crop-lines lines of the crops.

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When the mid-morning comes

the sky is the colour of flowering lin