A Village Awakening

Observation

A Village Awakening

Opposite Leeja Palace,

on a bench in the warm April sun,

I watch as Oadby awakens.

It is just past nine AM

but still there is little bustle

or urgency on these streets.

An informality nestles between

the numerous charity shops

interspersed with banks and cafes.

In this rush hour

almost empty buses pass

in gentle diesel throbs

as delivery vans

come and go with the stealth

of prowling cats.

I can even hear birdsong

as random individuals and couples

slowly, and with little haste,

meander about the business of their day

as if time is an irrelevance here,

four miles from the city.

Two workmen in day glow-orange jackets

follow one another slowly along the pavement,

one has his hands thrust deep within the pockets

of his trousers.

A metallic blue Honda Civic

pulls up in front of me

on double yellow lines.

Its occupant, an elderly woman,

seemingly unperturbed by any threat

from the traffic warden in his red banded peaked cap,

mounted with the now obligatory head cam,

who ghosted past seconds ago

religiously noting down each and every

vehicle number plate within restricted zones.

In a moment, no more, a frail and thin elderly gent,

using a cane, approaches and gingerly

gets into the front passenger seat

and, almost vanishing, the car slips silently away,

duty done.

On the corner I mistake an older Sikh man,

with a snow white beard and a dark blue turban,

as a street sweeper standing behind a hand cart

chatting to a small Asian woman.

The two move off and cross the tranquil road

together;

and as I scan the scene

I realise the cart has now disappeared,

in the opposite direction.

 

13/04/16

Reviews

[Lyn Anderson]

I think this observational piece has good bones. My only comment would be to pair it down and/or change the structure to improve the rhythm.