The chilling winter fog

obscured the lane ahead,

but from it came a noise

that filled us with dread.

An oncoming vehicle,

and a huge one too,

with headlights glaring

came into view.

It filled the narrow way,

bearing down upon us.

We cowered on the verge

as it clattered on regardless.

On passing us by,

it gave itself away:

it was unmistakably

a livestock lorry.

Through the slatted sides

I glimpsed its hapless load:

some sorry-looking pigs

being hauled along the road.

The lorry left behind it,

as it whisked away its cargo,

a faint smell of pig

and a strong sense of sorrow.

Poignantly at that moment,

some church bells tolled,

as if to mourn their passing,

because no-one else would.