by Steve Tanham
It’s two and you, two dogs and it
The hidden light that powers the grit
Of rubber spinning in the night
➰
Beneath the blazing arc-lights’ cold
No warmth escapes the darkened scold
Of coffee, burgers, brands unsold
➰
But we, Night Nomads, are unclean
As hounds, will reave your tables, mean,
With hunger and disease will you demean
➰
We won’t, of course, though banned within
We’ll sit outside and freeze our skin
And dream of home and that which lies within
➰
Of discipline and love, much do we know
The golden eyes, adoring, show
As fur and skin and distance flow
➰
Within these cut-loose tarmac places
Our outstretched love fatigue displaces
As worship follows drivers’ stony faces
➰
Hungry, cardboard-coffeed, quiet and cold
Our Nighttime Nomads, young and old
defeat the miles to morning, gold.
➰
For us…
©Stephen Tanham
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This is a really lovely poem.
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Thank you, Robbie. Written at two in the morning sipping coffee outside a motorway services, with two sleepy dogs. On our way back from Cornwall.
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