Geoff Lander: Concrete Kent
I cycled once when rural Kent
was much as God designed it,
before the men of foresight came
and wholly undermined it.
I loved the Vale of Holmesdale,
the sleepy ways that lined it.
but now it hosts the road from hell,
(I don’t think I’ve maligned it.)
My mind recalls a winding lane
with brambles that entwined it,
where blackberries hung ripened
in the hedgerows that defined it.
Those who took the chalk away
to smelt it and to grind it,
should see the rolling land fill now
with traffic jams that wind it.
When motorways proliferate
there’s avarice behind it.
Which vandals first conceived their span?
Which hooligans refined it?
Some folk live for progress.
Other folk don’t mind it.
If there’s an unspoilt part of Kent,
I for one can’t find it.