The wind rattles round the garden
Leaves are turned inside out
Flipped upside down
As if searching
For drugs, or interlopers
Could I become
Completely nostalgic
Write everything
As if I was Jethro Tull’s
Living in the past
Yet how to get there
To transport oneself
Back in time
When right now there are
So so few flights to anywhere
The passing cyclists say hi
Or hiyah, or hiyah mate
Or they simply nod
Dependant upon how vigorously
They push their pedals
I have a love hole in my head
The love of the one who loves me
I have a similar smile, as I wake
To think of my day of thoughts
Laid out before me
