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.
© 2024 The Bubbling Spring. All rights reserved.