A golden day at harvest time
Kingfisher blue and cloudless,
Fields glowing with ripened grain
Passengers doze in the bus
Like drowsy bumblebees
Drugged by warmth
The purring of the wheels
Brakes screech, we all lurch forward
Somebody's split second error
Has spilled four cars in terror
Like dice from a shaker
We witness a tragedy unfolding
Are there welts? Are there weals?
We are a near miss
Trapped in their crushed cages
Chalk faced drivers shudder
Streaked in blood.
Sirens scream from emergency services
Stopped drivers drum their steering wheels
Impatient to be gone
Having places to go that
Don't entail misfortune
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
we all lurch forward, good one