This poem was printed alongside this article, ‘Some poetic thoughts on Resisting Tides‘ by the same author.
“How long, Lord, will you be deaf to my plea? I shall stand at my post, I shall take up my position on the watch-tower.” (Habakkuk 1:2 and 2:1)
Five and a half hours at Heston West service station
is not, I suspect, everyone’s idea of fun;
but alongside electric car charge points and petrol pumps,
there are bushes, trees, wild flowers, even a bee,
clear blue sky, warm sun; and what appears to be
a lonely white cloud whispering to itself
is actually the moon travelling at quite some speed,
past me, sitting at the Exit with a sign saying “Please”.
So, like most places in this universe,
it only seems that not much happens here.
Sooner or later, someone will stop by;
I’ll climb in, stash my bag
and everything changes.
A plane from Heathrow passes.
We could lose all this life at Heston West services,
where I sit, at the Exit, with a sign saying, “Please”.