The delightful Bronte has graced us once more with her incredibly meditative and reflective poetry. Bronte works in higher education, and having found calm in nature in recent months, has enjoyed using language to hold on to the feeling she gets from being outside and in the fresh air.

In her poem ‘341 to Waterloo' Bronte beautifully depicts a scene of a journey home. We have all experienced times where we are on autopilot, or feel the journey will never end. This poem perfectly captures the mundane yet seemingly beautiful routine of heading home in the cold alone.

Many of us are currently spending a lot more time alone with our thoughts, and are perhaps in a state of increased anxiety and stress. Bronte hopes that '341 to Waterloo' speaks to this shared experience, by providing comfort for those who are feeling similarly lost and unanchored, and reassures them that there is pleasure to be found in the small comforts ; eventually, things will get better.

341 to waterloo

I got the wrong bus yesterday;

hailed it as it approached, because I remembered

that’s what you’re supposed to do.

I had to get home, but didn’t know

where to change, or how to,

and so I stayed on until Waterloo

where the doors opened onto the bridge

into the safe passage between concrete blocks and railings.

Rain became river; the people, a crowd. The roar from engines merged into a hum of white noise behind me. Everything moved

from A to B, or back again, and I stood still.

Hood down, I let the rain soak through to my skin;

your hair always dries, I’ve learnt. And the feeling comes back to your fingers and toes, and your teeth stop chattering,

and your thoughts slow.

And you head home,

hang your coat up where it goes,

put your shoes side-by-side by the door,

make yourself dinner, and put yourself to bed.