Driving by Moonlight
Near Buckingham, on the A413
There comes a stretch of road – straight as a liquorice stick
And when the time and tide of month is set
The full moon will hover frozen above this road
And torch a lime path upon the tarmac
Should you be driving alone at such a late hour
Just you and the road’s slim geometry
Resist the temptation to turn off your headlights
For on an impulse should you do this thing
You will find yourself sliding down the moon’s glidepath
Swaddled in the rich broth of viscous night
Verges fade and you will follow the poor pallor
As road leeches from solid to liquid
Your eyes will widen to the sudden shock of dark
Thin light will love you and dare you forward
And then settle you in a terrible comfort
You will be as your ancestors
Travelling with land shining
In a dim ancient glow
Straining for dangers
With old senses
As a deer
Quiet