(written on the Penistone Line, Penistone to Huddersfield, March 26th, 2026 for Penistone Arts Week)
Glistening off the roof of the blue iron arches
Sunshine gleams on yellow railings
Under the high, blue, sky-blue sky
As the smiling train approaches.
Fields flank us, stones support us
As we overhang shouldering slopes, laconic riders and clustering cattle.
Time unfolds like antique celluloid in tree-flickered light
Over the triangular roofs of pie town.
Leaves. Rock. Darkness.
The world has left us to our own inert devices.
But we spring again to life at the first wave of the white windmills
And the wink of the Emley mast.
Fences and dry walls shepherd us away
From the faces and voices
We broadcast to the world.
As our Victorian cutting bores into time
A solitary red bush starts up
But the upstart passes before we reach
Cottages with round window mysteries.
Woodland declines toward distant industry
Smeared below high-bend Pennine peaks
And huddled high-end executive boxes.
Houses devour the rock.
Trees relax as the rhythm eases
And the sliding hum of a fretless bass
Echoes from memory.
We soar over sports fields
But houses float higher
And a clock tower like VAR
Reminds us of the rules.
Stock-cars, spires and sewing Mills
Derelict carriages reel in the big city
Onto the spinning bobbin of our journey.
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Stephen A. Linstead
Photo: Penistone Viaduct (Paul Cartwright)
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