Monday, June 15, 2015


Grey buildings take light
Transform to honeyed stone
Heat finally comes
Soft waves
Butter on golden toast
Melting under June
A cobalt arc of birdsong
With feathered edges
And men smoke something
On top a railway bridge
A glorious disobedience
Tattoos over unused muscles
Too many swear words,
And far too few clothes
But this is a northern summer