By our side gate the old laburnum – whose wood,
in time, may make a chanter or a flute –
is in bloom. I look up through its branches.
There is a little azure and smidgens
of green – and droplets, ringlets, links, chains
of cascading yellow, a torrent of gold.
***
Our Edwardian neighbourhood fills
with the machined roar of twin turbofans.
An Airbus Beluga – more Arctic whale
than Caspian sturgeon –
THE DIGITAL MUSE: THE POET AS WEBSITE OWNER
UNDER THE LIME TREES
THE MUSEUMS
AN AFTERNOON IN MAY
HIGHWATER