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Promenade
January 15, 2007
2 comments
You look straight down
through clear water
to the river’s bed
or all around
where many-angled light
has turned the glaucous Thames
to abstract, shifting art.
*
In the pub a grey philosopher
studies the air. His hand
smokes behind a table-leg.
He compares notes with the Sun,
his head bobbing and bobbing:
a duck proof-reading water.
*
Snooty was the word for the swan
who looked down his bill
at coots masked for a ball.
He snorted like a soft fart,
up-ended his rump,
then rose on flaming wings.
by Ian House
Categories: Come Outside
Ian House
qarrtsiluni 