Field Scenes

Some geese sat in a field with an abandoned burger van and a tyre. This was a world unto itself. Not since the addition of the large van emblazoned with garish, yet now fading letters, had anything troubled the field, or its geese or for that matter the tyre. As far as the geese were concerned, the tyre was a loner, it had long ago rolled for the last time and now wallowed in rubbery self-pity. They didn’t bother the tyre very much. Yet the burger van was an exciting newcomer with its bright colours and intriguing hatch it proved an interesting companion. It would sit in the field, shining with ethereal radiance (or shining with grease – something which the geese barely understood). The geese entertained themselves by doing laps of the burger van. The tyre appeared notably saddened by this newcomer to the field.

The tyre had never really expressly conveyed any warmth for his companions, but had liked to think of them as beings in the same boat as he was. He found himself alienated from their lapping game. Of course it wasn’t his fault that he was without an axle or propulsion – and being on his side, not in the best position for rolling anyway. Yet this still felt like a shortcoming on his behalf.

The tyre sat grieving amongst the lengthening grass, which threatened to, in a few months, cover him entirely. He wept for the geese who had a new companion and for all the roads he would never roll upon.

A solitary tear oozed between his grooves – or was it dew. I could hardly tell the difference as my train rolled by.