Slowly, torturously they climb

Like some lumbering hippopotami

Up the rugged inclines

Spaced far apart

For decency’s sake

Their tinted windows

Glinting ominously from afar


At every vantage point,

A jutting rock formation,

A nestling valley far below,

Their mechanised progress

Becomes infinitesimal;

While flashing cameras eagerly

Gobble up the awesome landscape

From behind safe windows

And frame it forever

For some glossy album


‘I have been on Dartmoor’

They squeal delightedly,

The irrefutable evidence

Flickering in Technicolor

On their living-room walls

my latest book of poetry available from; http://www.tinhuttalespublishers.co.uk/67/





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