Monday 27th February 2012.



It is unnaturally warm,
the fit young men are in t shirts,
I am sent to get some rabbit food from Erdington High Street,
the poor make a delight of humanity,
I feel less alone
and the church that was burnt down,
is beginning to appear anew from its shroud.

David Hockney is on the television
everything has become a painting;
the crocusi on the dual carriageway verge,
are in drifts of mustard yellow,
the daffodils are nearly out,
as star bursts on a triumphant day.

 

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