Day breaks over the Pit Wheel,
its gaunt circumference
dormant and proud;
Along the arterial tarmac that wends
its way down into the village,
oil-drum braziers waft showers of
redflecked orange-sparks over
huddled dufflecoat figures;
Engrossed in the “Crack”
weather-etched faces drain
dregs from shared flasks,
warmed hands pass round
the last of the fags,
snapshut their hollow snap-tins;
Vigil-wearied eyes scan the morning grey
middle-distance trying to make
out the shape of flitting lights,
waltzing their way slowly along
the road,two long vehicles
preceded by four shorter ones;
the cavalcade shimmering like
technicoloured morse-code,
blue and red and blue and red;
Around still flickering braziers,
huddled dufflecoats curtail
their banter and begin to
form cohorts to greet the
arrival of another day,
as it breaks over
the Pit Wheel,
its gaunt circumference
dormant and proud.
A cinematic experience. One senses the tension in the air.Creates a perfect ambience for what may or may not follow.
Nice photograph but not Fryston Colliery as i worked there a quick google identifies it see below
https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ACYBGNQnQIPO4Lx4Se5lTqftvRw3CUir6Q:1577458439260&q=miners+strike+st+helens&tbm=isch&tbs=simg:CAQSlAEJqTErf-Aqk_1IaiAELEKjU2AQaAghCDAsQsIynCBphCl8IAxInwwqcBMQK7gq3GZIEbJsEzQ64EOM54jmlLswroy6oLqYuyS28Of4iGjBr_17MaEi0hRV5y-0hAbD72RK0a7aNoQ24ivQnZdwosgdpMwDrNrkbBaP6K8jXnkUsgBAwLEI6u_1ggaCgoICAESBAGnOEkM&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj84K3PitbmAhXJbMAKHXQgBhoQwg4oAHoECAcQKA&biw=1280&bih=608