To Sudbury Poem by Robert Wylie

With Jean, by coach to Sudbury
By way of Finchingfield, where
Village on village (strung on
a thread of lanes) , leads to
Where Gainsborough's painterly
Arm stretches to tint the
Villas pink; leads to a
Windmilled otherworld, where
Cream teas at noon replace
The urban chickenshack kitsch.

It is all easing-out, easing down,
Smoothing us down to blend with
The fenceless, hedgeless parklands,
Guiding gamebirds from wooded shade.

Then back again through Essex,
Avoiding odious towns, but
Unavoidably meeting with
The roadwork's sprawl at Ponders
End, through Edmonton, and home.