Near Walsall on the stilted motorway,
Where the M5 loses height and branches south,
I saw the M6 curve away – the pillars in its shade
Resembling those tall Hatshepsut, the queen,
Ordained at Thebes, or like huge baobab trees
That shelter weaver birds and suffer drought –
And at its feet the Tame, a timid stream,
Turn east and twist off to the Humber's mouth.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Polly Walshe would be
pleased to hear them.