Wrote this one early on and forgot to post it.
POSTCARDS FROM THE ROAD
How travel assaults the senses!
Black pudding and grilled tomato
with a poached egg stealthily pocketed
for who in full jetlag could eat
such things so early, or at all?
And who would offend
the dear old hosts of the Irish B & B?
Pushed underneath the lumpy bunk
in the smoky German hostel,
what might once have been
a chicken wing.
And who could forget
that rainful cycling trip through France,
the flagrant scent of lavender?