The Number 31 bus taken from Lasswade Road on a late summers evening
Peace, at first.
The dusty windows flood with light
From the not quite setting sun.
The city sitting, docile in the distance,
Glowing.
Half a conversation floating up the stairs
And the occasional squeaking brake
Disturb the silence.
The road is quiet on the brae, becoming
Busy further in,
The remnants
Of chaos.
The long road full
Of cars stretching onward.
Tourists asking questions.
Jolting stops and starts.
Strangers wander aimlessly -
Crowds bustle, disruptive.
Peace, at first.
By the end, a kind of energy.
Half disorder, half disarray,
One third frustration, two thirds
contentment.
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