The Bomb-Disposer’s Walk

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with lark dots twittering aloft
in a blue-fractured cloudscape
the skin surface heat of fear
when on strengthless legs
he sets off between
hedgerows of almond-scented gorse
to face the always unknown

tractors in fields all around
theirs a seasonal urgency
rotavating, harrowing, seed-drilling
rolling and raising a teeth-sticking
red dust this dry spring

a superstitious distrust of the adrenalin rush
he knows that sandbags and body armour
are no guarantee of protection but
a thought of what comes after the unknown
- phone call to be made, bill to be paid -
grants momentarily a necessary
  notion of invincibility