Three pronged leaves stain the footpath.

Yesterday’s rain indents their tridents

Around Shoreditch. Swept away by council,

Amusingly, at the start of autumn.



In October, when morning’s golden sun

Lies shadows on each building you pass,

This building - a holy one - has front steps

That bed the bedless.



In October, the tattooed pavement

On Pittfield Street illuminates with lives

Past and present. Spring’s leaves have now fallen

And left these trident swords to battle winter.