Trevor Hewett sees two people from a train.
PROJECTION
Among the ravaged greens and duns
of a mudpooled lane,
the old man stands, hatless, in the rain,
gazing over birdless fields,
into the gathering gloom
of the short afternoon.
Then, later, under orange streetlamps,
at a back-garden gate
on a pillaged, old estate,
a thin girl with pigtails stands,
her face held high,
watching the fermenting sky.
Briefly connected only by
their responses to the rain
and my seeing them from the train,
they seem to embody a sense I share;
that of travelling far but arriving nowhere.
Trevor Hewett
