Fenland Sketch 2

This busy air is fresh and bright,
rendering the water in the crossing dykes
as glittering spasms amongst sharp blue.

White clouds with the spirit
of ocean liners sprint above me,
while I, in my car, run this road

with no boxes alongside imprisoning streets,
no brick wall bigotry from some chattering suburb;
no metropolitan clutter, no town crowds, just distance.

The photography is here, but I can't catch it.
But I will; I'll learn to express my cheer
at this absence, this emptiness.