Antigone at Colonus; A Word of Acknowledgment; The Moorland Road

The Moorland Road

I see far-off a motorcar
dipping and rushing over the hills,
a flash in the windy sunshine,
as I wait on the moorland road.
A single raucous magpie
alights at my left hand.
The crackling stream,
the bunting on the thorn,
the pebble glint of the tar
mock me, unbidden stranger
whom they will dispossess.
The sea calls over the wayside grass,
“Once created, I was forgotten.”
Nearer drives the car.

Who is the driver? No doubt he’s rich
and rents the moor for the season,
and leaning out of the car
will harangue and cry, “Hey!
Come here! Don’t you know this car?”
as if you could own or rent a moor,
or stop a woman from walking on it
by introducing death!