Waiting for the 06.28 at Tweedbank station

by Bridget Khursheed

The station edge is all dapples and mews of cats
and buzzards.

There are pine trees and wild lupins
known as “the blue pink plants”,

a puff of hawthorn;

if the sea came close it would be ticklish
on the rails but kind.

Instead the river and the sewage farm breed
flies and swallows that patter down

high-definition in the air again each oxygen speck.
Everything is full,

only the train is cancelled.