A Field in Edithmead
The line of cars ahead slowed then stopped,
in the melting-tar heat, of a June day.
Glancing to the left, I saw
two striped deckchairs beside an old caravan.
A man in panama hat, white shirt with cravat,
newspaper on lap.
A camping stool with teapot and two bone china cups.
His wife in flowered frock of palest blue, a summer straw,
knitting a sock.
A heat haze hung in the air as he turned to his wife,
touching her arm with a gentle, loving gesture.
I trespassed by.
©2005 Rose James
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