Is this rain or snow falling?
A dirty grey dampness descends from the clouds
Lazily drifting into my face,
A cold veil through which I peer
To try to make out the contours of the streets,
The bare trees that overhang broken city pavements.
People walk slowly from house to shop,
Then back again from shop to chilly semi.
They wear such thick bundles of drab winter clothing
They look like mobile parcels made from dark plastic
Or packets of unwashed wool.
My clothing is no better, but I am noticing as I walk
The small humps of sticky buds breaking the skin of branches,
And a solitary daffodil upright beside a wall.
Trevor .John Karsavin Potter,
7th. March 2023.
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