Mercian Hymns XVII

 He drove at evening through the hushed Vosges.
 The car radio,
glimmering, received broken utterance from the horizon of storms.
.
.


'God's honours - our bikes touched: he skidded and came off.
' 'Liar.
' A
timid father's protective bellow.
 Disfigurement of a village king.
 'Just
look at the bugger.
.
.
'

His maroon GT chanted then overtook.
 He lavished on the high valleys its
haleine.

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