N B Thomson

Commuting in Late October

What I’m dreaming of
Simultaneously
Still thinking of work
Waiting in traffic
Immobilized by snow flurries
I just wonder
Why rainbows are curved
And beelines absent

Driven, in a courtesy car
With its offside, broken
Ragged, wing mirror
Northbound, a little altitude
On Fenwick Moor, Arran
Westwards, flickering
Eastwards in my eye are
Reeling, blustery turbines

What I’m thinking of
Desiring relaxation time
Finds Button 6, Classic FM
Warm acoustics begin to flow

Over hill-brow, near Newton Mearns
I recognize Beinn Laomainn with
Lonely, detached isolation
Far beyond the friendly city

What I’m thinking of
Aurally and visually
Looking left, Bellahouston Park
Usually, The Worlds play the Green
Silence evaporating now
Leaf reds, along with golds, scatter
Exquisitely, sprinkled over
Saturated, bland, asphalt roads

What I’m thinking of
Simultaneously
Still dreaming of love
Along with friendship
Immobilized over time
Always, I ponder just why
Many friends are remote
Staying still, so absent.