Split Second

A golden day at harvest time Kingfisher blue and cloudless, Fields glowing with ripened grain Passengers doze in the bus Like drowsy bumblebees Drugged by warmth The purring of the wheels Brakes screech, we all lurch forward Somebody's split second error Has spilled four cars in terror Like dice from a shaker We witness a tragedy unfolding Are there welts? Are there weals? We are a near miss Trapped in their crushed cages Chalk faced drivers shudder Streaked in blood. Sirens scream from emergency services Stopped drivers drum their steering wheels Impatient to be gone Having places to go that Don't entail misfortune