POSTCARD FROM LONDON 29 DECEMBER 2021

A leafless tree

Writes a black branched script

Against a winter sky.

Then a crow flies in

Perches on the tree

And changes the whole story.

SOLSTICE 2021

 Why is that grey pigeon

Sprinting through greyer and greyer sky,

On a dying midwinter day?

As I see it dive between the two houses

Opposite me,

It looks desperate,

It looks like it’s making an escape.

Yet this is not the weather

For hawks to hunt.

It’s a time to run home,

It’s a time to feel

Fear and despair

If you’re alone.

So, fly home to some sort of safety.

To a place where you can

Huddle down

And wrap your feathers around you

To keep warm

Hide from harm and wait,

Now it’s getting late

But soon the days will become

Longer and lighter again.