you know, they say, prior to urbanisation, during the winter, people turned into rabbits because it was so bleak... but now winter in an urbanised system seems rather like a stare into a cold nearing ultra-violet light of the neon of adverts at piccadilly circus.*
spring came yesterday, long awaited i guess,
head up my *** sort of speak,
warm rain, not icy in venture of sleet,
warm, while today a day of warm contentment,
an hour spent on a bench imagining how
it would be in Disneyland,
two squirrels in a chase, woodland pigeons
making ends meet, a menacing crow
flying by with his hidden harem
(i said it once, you never see crows
do the pigeon thing of eager mating in
front of you, i guess they do it in the dark),
a robin with its crucified heart of the orange-red
chest pout exploding,
a blackbird rustling in shuffles;
two beers in and i notice the disharmony of this spring
compared with previous springs - the magnolias haven't
really bloomed, the daffodils were already
here in november, and the pink and white spring
blossoms seem anorexic and dried out in terms of volume,
they're scarcely colouring the backdrop of
the uneventful blue of sky and green of the hills;
summer is oh so monochromatic,
the season that debases me into a laziness,
a woman's sunglasses and a hood to protect
me from sunstroke, just lazying on a bench
thinking of a place in the archive of humanity,
next to the anchovies, i hope... the weeping willow
with its furry caterpillar sprouts;
it's all there, if you're lazy enough to peer at it.