Footsteps on gravel pineau on arrival
giant sky western rolled plateau
windmill horizon early fields await
movement deck the hall in blue
square atmosphere some planes trail
some don’t it’s not the noise of a train
but a baling machine Armagnac shimmer
grips the glass nostalgic curiosities in city
centres spotting the movement in lines as
if on an autoroute gate leaning morning
light as good as it appears on film




Andrew Taylor




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