The perfect peace of morning when
all is still and early light comes
shining though the sprouting skeleton trees
while tiny gulls fly high above
a hundred miles from any coast
drifting like litter on the dusty city breeze.
That building roar of traffic in the underpass
I close my eyes attempting to tune in
to sounds of breaking waves upon the shore
coat-clad commuters passing in the street below
en route to offices and shops, their daily grind,
responsibility I’m all too happy to ignore
And later on I’ll take the dog and walk
a narrow track along the sheer cliff behind the house
with billowing waters down below.
I’ll balance on the dizzy height, drunk on ozone and delight
drowning in the vastness of the blue.
Warm sunshine on my pale cheeks
skin cleansed and buffed by salty wind,
I’ll laugh in nature’s face and fall content into her arms
At length returning home
with muddy canine wagging through the wicket gate.
I’ll trace the garden path between the pregnant beds
right up to white-washed walls
that wear their thatch like an old hat.
Requisite rambling rose climbs round the door
and hollyhocks will soon be growing tall along the wall
One day, one day,
I’ll own a cottage far away
Meanwhile in the city that’s nearer space than the sea
morning sunlight is
reflecting off the bellies of swooping pigeons
peeping round the corners of buildings
showing up gum marks and overflowing litter bins
casting shadows through the railings
lighting lamp posts and bare trees
pouring bright pools onto grainy grey concrete.