Wednesday 18 November 2009

Winter in Peckham

The wind that lifts the polythene
Combs the hair of the willow trees
Playfully, it tosses packets
It drives grey pillows across the sky
And pushes a child onto the bus

The wind throws a Mexican wave
Through nature's stadium
In earth's colours, yellow and brown
In a promise of renewal
For our world, it was ever thus

We are surprisingly nonchalent
As the wind teases the shopping street
Toying with flags, turning our wheels
Busily piling the dead leaves
Choosing, though it can, not to harm us