‘The High Street’

by michaelhodges3


I don’t really have the time or inclination to work on a diary entry this week.  Some of the things I might want to talk about, I think I’ll think over for a while before I talk.  Also, my bus leaves in half an hour, which for me, is a big deal.  I thought I might try a poem instead.

‘The High Street’


Stately stream of georgian foundations;

wool money, mercantile dreams,

erased, periodically,

by Luftwaffe deletions, and built again, a modern siezing of the instantaneous, eternal day.

The weather, mild, paints it’s children with gentle sunshine and calming breezes;

a street of people moving, intently, slowly, quickly, calmly.

Unseen foundations of a greater future,

pavements repaved smoothly,

different coloured faces,

foreign jargon.

A community held together by invisible ties.

I hurry on my way to this place, observing, thinking, moving.


Hopefully I’ll write a normal entry next week.

Take care,