Travel

Poem 790 – En Route

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Gridlocked motorways
Stormy weather past Stonehenge
Winding country lanes

Praying the roads are clear
Dodging pot holes and branches
Don’t make me reverse!

Battery running low
Hoping that the charger works…
Big sighs of relief!

Helping lead a retreat for the Sierra Leone Mission today meant a long and early motorway drive to just beyond Exeter.
(12.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 781 – Freewheeling

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Overcast and damp, the air
is grey and permeates my hair
as I watch old tyres being changed,
condemned for being found threadbare.

Above, in freedom, red kites range,
magnificent as they exchange
the shackles of hard earth for flight,
from gravity’s embrace estranged.

In contrast, my hubcaps are stuck tight,
the mechanic struggles, applying might
to loosen them without causing damage,
dedicated to winning this fight.

Within my ears sounds the ancient adage
about keeping on until you manage, as
at last with wheels that have been repaired,
just like the raptor, I achieve free passage.

It was a miserable morning waiting whilst my tyres were changed today, but the mood was lifted by two glorious red kites circling above.
(03.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Phil Robson on Unsplash

Poem 753 – Enough?

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There’s tension in knowing
The battery is full
Which should be enough
But it’s cold outside
And the gap between
Mileage and miles
Is closing and closing
In front of your eyes
As muscles are tensing
Suspense keeps on growing
But you keep on going
As warnings start glowing
Until…

…ahh
With great satisfaction
You glide to a stop
You made it okay
Just ten miles on the clock.

A long day’s driving the EV the cold. Took a calculated gamble and didn’t stop to charge.
(06.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Joshua Fernandez on Unsplash

Poem 738 – Hertfordshire Hills

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We glide, we climb,
Our pedals turn,
We grunt and groan,
To creaking cranks,
And sighing pants,
Until we reach,
The top and fly.

After too long a break, I got on my bike again today and did the next leg of the London-Walsingham Camino doing a ~40 mile figure of eight around Ware, Hunsdon, the Hadhams, and Bishops Stortford. Really enjoyable spin and company.
(22.12.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Fat Lads on Unsplash

Poem 737 – Ten Lines, Ten Minutes

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I only had ten minutes to trace the journey
from heaven to earth, the Word to flesh descending.
The Son becoming one with us for love
takes on our form, enters fragility,
and there is shunned. Pursued they flee,
the holy family, to Egypt’s bosom.
Asylum sought, by strangers saved, until
at last they can return. Can time compress
this sacrifice? Ten minutes can’t suffice,
but asks us if we’d welcome them today.

I had the privilege of preaching at a local church’s carol service today, and the challenge of compressing the awe and challenge of Christmas into just ten minutes. I thought I’d try again in ten lines.
(21.12.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Kevin Bückert on Unsplash

Poem 736 – Erebus

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The glare. The glistening glass that cloaks the sky.
The ice erupts, our eyes afire burn
with blinding brightness born of cold. We freeze.
Our hardened hands are cut, by sharpness hurt,
as numbed we notice not that time is stopped;
my dire realm reversed from darkened depths
to a fiercesome land of frightening light and frost.
We sail until we’re stilled by the sight of smoke
issuing forth from the volcanic crest that carves
the skyline. Awestruck and silent we kneel and pray.

I’ve been reading Erebus by Michael Palin, about the ship Erebus babe after the Greek God of the underworld. This dramatic scene as she sailed in search of the south pole caught my attention.
(20.12.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by GV Chana on Unsplash