Time to the storks
moved as a wheel moves -
it was going in a circle but moving in its track.

They were on time this year- as they were on time every year.
They gracefully landed in the high above places
where they nested every year.

The oldest was Mr. Stork who lived on top
of the townhouse's chimney that was last seen puffing
back in Febuary 2001.


Somewhere in his wings he remembers
distant memories of a missing family
but that was oh so long ago.



The first few weeks were proper with the darling sun,
the children shouting and pointing, the spring soil wet,
the snowdrops, the tulips and whatnot things moving.




But then the snow came back.
From nowhere.
And it scared everything away.




It scared the people, the flowers, the sun and the food,
the warmth in his feathers, the red in his  beak
and he was now dipped in a sickly purple.





And the air was white from the ice, and he
who was mostly silent,was forced to call out
as his nest was coming undone.






And the wheel fell off its track.
And his calls remained unanswered..