Past elephantine clouds plodding over lusty green peaks.
Past inky black butterflies that prevaricate on the breeze like the charred remains of burnt love letters.
Past the shivering surface of a pond, excited by the bulk of a weeping water buffalo.
Past vistas of hewn logs, a snake splat and a curiously small frog.
Past unsteady cobble stones, percussive under tyres.
Past machete hugging bikers in hard hats and wellies.
Past a chatter of pylons reaching through the forest canopy like the hands of a hunkering marionettist.
Past pogoing children scattering hellos like firecrackers that light up their faces with smiles.
Past traffic police who give high fives instead of high fines.
Past scooters carrying scooters on their backs, giving a whole new spin to the phrase “back seat driver”.
Past industries nestling into cliffs like maggots into slabs of meat.
Past trucks that honk and titter as they splash bewildered cyclists, marbling white Lycra with mud.
Past puppies that litter the roadside with play.
And so on, until the end of the day.
- James Ferris
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