For a moment I’m inscribed, reflected
my face a canvas of copper, russet         a ripening landscape
spun-gold stitches defining my features,         hair woven into
hedgerow and copse, gorse plumes and hilltops -
an ivy-eyed blink         as twigs etch icily upon grimy glass.

I’m aground in a sea of burgundy, mustard, navy
of over-packed rucksacks, ringtones, lip gloss, mobile phones
as the bus’s kaleidoscope heart         splutters to life
as we lurch away         as I watch myself go.