Leatherhead Station Insects

Cyclops centipede number 23
Approaches with decreasing rumble.
Waits; its sides ripple open and closed.
With a rising whine and snort,
It drags itself into the darkness.
Blunt tail burning in the distance.

Tiny fleas zip around and about.
Noisy, fast, and everywhere.
Some of one uniform appearance,
Others of a different hue.
They first converge upon one location,
Then are gone, leaving near silence.

Buzzing about this, buzzing about that.
Halting work for sporadic movement,
Sending signals to other busy bees
(Far away or closer by)
Worker bees dispatch final chores.
Getting ready for home sweet home.

Vivid flashes of colour can't help
but catch your eye - it is their purpose...
Impossibly delicate structures
Like dragonflies' slender wings
Dart in colourful and joyful flight,
An early dance into the night.

And me. I'm like a little spider.
Tucked away in a far corner,
Just watching the world bumping along.
I stand here in the middle of
A weary web of disjointed thought,
Feeling remote from this reality.