Commuter?

Through the fast-forward frames

That gentle-rock and carry me homewards

I see familiar – but not – evening shadows

Lying timelessly across harvest-clock fields;

Full leaf crowns of trees that served as masts,

Fuel, trusses, wheel spokes and spear shafts

Lean now on thick, dark hedges

Like off-duty, slightly drunk warders

At the sleepy near-home edges of my day.