i am two hours out of london, now
my train is speeding faster, now
and the horizon stretches out vaster than it has before.
there are rolling meadows, ancient hedgerows, mythical moors
and snow-tinged distant hilltop tors.
this is our inherited land.
this is not at all what we had planned,
but there are shipwrecked sunken boats and silver tidal sands
shifting and settling like swept in stardust. last night, it stormed.
i’ve got to trust that all of this is sunlight, transformed.