A Toast

A Toast to Life on the B Roads

Split rock z-bends and

roller coaster blind summits

keep the driver humble

and speeds down

as view points

mug you of breath,

from pleasant, passing places. 

The frightfully civil engineer

must have had this in mind

when he set free his

Tar Macadam adder to sun itself

amidst the heather,

all coils and unhurried curves.

Leaders driven by 70 mph deliverables

don’t get the likes of you and me.

They prefer three to five lanes of straight strategy,

swallowing down the acid reflux of themselves coming back on

themselves. Foot to floor,

Close to shoulders, too hard to cry on.

But as this winking loch and a distant cluster

of Munros open out 

before us in a wardrobe of welcome,

I am a toddler

trying on my father’s sheepskin coat

enveloped 

in the heaviness and curls. Lost

and yet never more at home. 

(for Golden Lion)