Under skies of leaden grey
Down Hoeilaart street I’d not gone far
When diggers blocked my way.
Renovation - laying pipes
Water, sewage, internet?
Workman bees in yellow stripes
Shovels poised, all getting wet.
A muddy trench, stacked paving stones
Completely changed the normal view
No warning signs, no traffic cones
Just ordered chaos, nothing new!
A mini-mudslide, gravel spill
My car squeezed past a dumper truck
Like a lunar landscape, if you will
I ploughed on through the clayey muck.
And stopped at last on other side
The hedgerow scratched my blue car door
“I’m glad you’ve made it,” my friend cried,
“From the trenches of the Third World War!”
(c) Poet in the woods 2013
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