From a Distance

The distant city steals along the vale,
A miniature, a model on display,
Its limes and contours softened by a veil
Of silver-rippling mist at break of day;
From here, on woodland heights, it may look tame,
A harmless plaything for a wandering eye,
Its chimneys, streets, and factories free of blame
for lives so poisoned some of them will die.
But far from the fields and woods, inside the town
The damage is much easier to see:
Through hardship social peace can break right down
And homeless families struggle to be free.
Yet from the city all that can be seen
Is sky and underneath, some brown and green.