The bus, over the bumps in the road
flirts with the countryside
as it pauses and it passes
winks at a tree,
grins at the rabbits in their field,
waves goodbye to disinterested horses at the far edge of green
where the river bends
as smoke bends away from fire.
The bus, over bumps, drives on without a backward glance.
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this is great Adam, with the rhythms of the bus, and the bus 'not looking back', and the bending river and the bending smoke
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