The Morning Bus
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The red and white processional
Shuffles over the frozen treacly path
The daily pilgrims, ties, dark trousers
And skirt; slices of the same cake
The base pastry climbs off
Reluctantly for further baking
The sponge gets off and looks forward
To being nibbled to retirement.
The marzipan topping is driving alongside
With agitated impatience, looks stiffly
Forward with feigned interest
At the car in front, envying personalised plates
all in the unspoken agreement
that the terminus awaits today and some uncertain tomorrow
