Monday, 27 June 2011

Equinox and Solstice

The procession of the world
is a wonderful thing –
the natural order
changing ever so slowly;

the days wax into each other
unnoticed, except for the stars,
the falling leaves,
the coming drifts of snow
and lull of birds.

But equinox and solstice are elsewhere,
for I am in a train carriage
peopled by drunk idiots
repeating the game, the trick,
and hoping for a different result,

and the dream of season seems
as alien to me
as trying to find signs
in the puddle of last night’s
exuberant excess.

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