Saturday 22 February 2014

Bus note 90

        Whispering static
and stopped rain.
        That one in the bushes
        with the coffee again
(his pretend nature corner
traffic smeared).
        One wall left;
        brick dust cumuli.
White of Birch,
white, sick
and nearly beaming

2 comments:

  1. The way the landscape seems to blanch, sicken, crumble like brick dust... and then unexpectedly turn into something of a miraculous near-promise.

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  2. Sometimes you follow the route and it's there - with a flake of hope at the close.

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