The kick-start, roar and rev take me away,
out of the gates of my Clouds Hill retreat
and onto far-too-narrow Dorset roads,
across M.o.D. land and past startled
Sika deer. A stag with Viking antlers
stares boldly with patient annoyance. Then
onward! Up the graded hill, on the side
of which stalled tanks sprawl slewed in mud, rusting
on their ferocious tracks in holed armour –
a violent shabbiness. Hurtling signs warn
of SUDDEN GUNFIRE, but I feel no fear
for I was forged in furnace fire. Besides,
this today’s not the today of my death.
The kick-start, roar and rev take me away.
T. E. Lawrence (1888-1935)
© R J Dent (2004)