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John Jennings

Team Valley Morning

Traffic's lights emerge,

Flooding through the earthen scar

Beneath an Angel's feet.


The roaring roadside

Dulled into a smoother sound

As speed soundly whirrs.


Road-bridge stretched afar.

Uncoiled, skewbald white and red,

Rising from tower-blocks

To skirt the Angel,

Rust, outstretched in silhouette,

Facing North at me.


Before a blazing sun.

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