There are butterflies
And dragonflies
And ducks
Washing themselves
In the calm canal
There are squealing pigs
Being fattened for the slaughter
There are machinery noises
As there were in my days
At Hepworth Iron
There are tall grasses
And cow parsley by the dozen
There are those tiny wasps
What do they call them
Yes, hornets, that’s the one
I can hear the pigeons going
But they are here as well
Also I am waiting
For the disharmonious elevator
To stop its tuneless whirring
Of course we have blue skies
Above the diamond jubilee
Two-seat lover’s bench
In the graveyard, beside
The Louth canal, on its way to the sea
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