Bus ride

With another morning

Comes another trip on the U buses, 

For the love of all that’s academic. 

Though I shouldn’t assume such consistency – 

These buses are a capricious bunch. 

 

Once the bus does roll to my stop, 

And the bout of fear passes, 

I get on safe in the knowledge

That my passage to work is secured, 

Despite how used the air will become 

A few stops later. 

 

I’m always aware of the slog that I’ll meet, 

Yet the bus ride always disarms me: 

 

With its cosy heat wrapping 

Restfully around my matted-clothed body; 

Its smooth tremors, gently jolting 

The muscles that have surrendered 

To the seat’s leanings; 

Its subtle sways thanks to the soft

Meanders found on this familiar course – 

A course whose rhythm is 

Flushed with more welcome than boredom, 

 

As thoughts relinquish their

Hold on study, 

Lulling my eyelids to closure.