Sussex Downs

So many times have I wandered

And now

Sat here, I listen to the soft piano

The pianist adrift

A wake up of wistful, wispy steps

Out and on and through the meadow

Turn slowly, turn over the leaves of tattered paper

The scores of crumpled notes, taken dutifully

Out of the washing basket

Hung there, on the line, in the morning sunshine

With Offenbach

From Life is Beautiful

Knowing that elsewhere

Rivers flow in their own defiance of gravity

Up and down the undulating lawns

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Meander

Thin spoked bicycle wheels

With double derailleur

Gear changers

Where then to go today

Where shall we go today?

Lonely

Pipe tobacco

And rolled up sweater

In the garden shed covered in dust

I've misread, you're all settled to rust

Instead I walk into my other valley

My imaginary abode

Out into the deeper country

Out among the poppy fields

With the oak tree, the ploughed furrow

By the trickling stream and the butterfly

This is the morning sun

And already the heat is on

By midday

The shopkeepers will be sat on the pavements

Too warm indoors

Too warm out also

A cold Guinness

A Jubilee stout

If only we knew what to expect

We, maybe

Could set out our orange groves

Without doubt

We could make our own marmalade

Instead we sit

Pity, we are in fear of the end

We await the return of the cloud and rain

The onset of autumn

We hurry along

On to the thrush of deep winter

Of another Christmas

A Blue Streak, two-wheeler

Dropped handlebar

Racing bike

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Postcard from abroad

Roller coast

The songs of Mickie Most

And the streets of beautiful people

Share the toast

My breakfast host

In this the town of the crooked steeple

From the mountains of Majorca

To the prisoners of old Bedlam

Silent spaces for unspoken people

Meditation

Segregation from the steep hills

That we have at some time my friend

One and one to climb

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Down on your luck

It could be any street anywhere

Uneven pavements, broken flagstones

Subsidence surrounds the old houses

All day breakfasts

On linoleum topped tables

The F&C capital of the breadline

Dole out deadlines

Of a choking, smoking community

Everyone said she had

An history of violence

Here she lies

In her own discontent

Unrepresented

By the far away dissonant

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Thin Strips

I waited

Then pared everything back

I created

Defence turned into attack

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