a pattern learned in childhood but still
an effective ruse for giving
the lie to that old question: ‘Did you
have a good time?’ It’s the living

away from home that cheers them now:
damn the letters and damn the bills
two hundred miles away! They can rot
for a week. Outside, a damp breeze chills,

but they will not be deterred – they have
escaped, and this week is theirs, theirs
only to do with as they choose, and
no dull meteorological cares

will bend them from their will. Agreed,
they set off for the station, only to find
that their timing’s on holiday too,
and the parting train has left them behind.

He triggers the shutter; somehow catches
a scene as English as rain, distilled
in the lens: a plume of steam, wild flowers
in swathes, and distant misty hills.

© Jeff Vinter, July 2009