Heading West. Runaways. Oxeye daisies.
White cap of wingless mill on the hilltop, unable to brush the breeze.
Black river under the trees cracks to reveal a blue mirror of sky.
Wild poppies flood down the railway platform, happy that no-one did the weeding.
Far from the shore, beached against an old wire fence, a boat is wrecked in a high sea of grass.
The big sleep. Pigs in the sun.
Fast train glides past snaking lane beside the unconcerned river.