Departures

Grim, grey morning:
The old, sick and poor
On rural buses trundling
To arterial railways;
And me, sixteen and afraid,
On the way to Edinburgh,
Where I had an interview
For the University.
Borrowed-shirt, non-matching shoes,
Improving book at my side,
I see the damp dismal dawn
Of northern Scotland, its
Early-Elizabethan small towns
And prepare for new visions.

I alight at Aberdeen,
Terminus to elsewhere,
Buy a Scotsman and a coffee
Cold long before my train arrives.
Then depart, our route
Curving sinuously southwards.
Villages flash by, the sun
Arrives at the horizon,
Dappling the sea with dancing light
As we pass Dundee.

The train arches inland
Through pregnant fields of pasture,
Into the vast industrial sprawl
Of the central belt: smoking towers
In Grangemouth, commuter towns of
Lenzie, Croy and Larbert,
Into the eager mouth of Edinburgh,
Past sun-flashing office windows,
Neatly-kept suburban gardens,
And now the scale and splendour
Of the city's glorious centre.

We raced toward Waverly
Through dark tunnels,
And I felt myself propelled
To the oncoming light
My heart leapt in ecstasy:
Take me, city of souls!