Concrete, steel and telegraph poles

Written in Spain in August 1988

I despise the familiar, the grey and the plain,
the commonplace dullness and unnoticed marks.
A scene unchanged, medieval minded,
for the modern violates, intrudes and scars.
A purist repelled by consubstantial change.
Yet, as I sit at this roadside,
I feel comforted and overwhelmed
for concrete, steel and power cables
are the things to which I belong.
This medieval valley has nothing of me,
except those things I would hate.
But steel barriers bind my life
and, insulated against transience,
I can wish to preserve:
but do not take the familiar
or abandon me in a unknown land