502 - Misty moor-top misery

The daftest place to live would be the farm
In the midst of the motorway to Leeds
(Or to Manchester) where it’s never calm
Or rural, the roar all day, all night; speeds
Of up to a hundred. While your flock feeds
On wet grass with carbon dioxide taste,
The misty moor-top motorway impedes
Your free movement and health, with all that waste
Floating around, added to damp encased
Deeply within your walls. You’d come to harm,
Or, more likely, top yourself first. The deeds
Would indeed be unsaleable. You’d paste
It up as a mistake, try to wake from
The nightmare of the motorway to Leeds.
Sat 19 Jan 2008