A Space

There is nothing I can do,

It is out of my hands,

Beyond my control.

The cries for attention are left behind,

They have been washed, breakfasted and sent to school.

The clamour for my time is not yet here.

I cannot yet open my emails, deal with the post.

The important meetings must wait,

The paperwork sits unattended.

Here, in between, there is a space, a peace.

Cocooned in my car,

Just me, Terry Wogan and Joni Mitchel,

Singing at the top of my voice, no one can hear.

I put my foot on the clutch,

Ease into first, maybe second, never more.

Crawl slowly at a leisurely pace.

Glancing out of the window I see another driver,

He is biting his nails, fuming with frustration.

But not me. I am calm, smiling,

Thoroughly enjoying yet another God-given

Traffic jam.