7. Jan, 2017
Summer,
And all the way downhill,
Perfumes blossomed
From washing lines,
Sweet flavourings of air
Adrift on warm winds.
A ginger skittish kitten,
Pretending to be stuck in a tree,
Had around it
A little court
Of concerned admirers.
Standing on the grass
Between the maisonettes
Where once my brother lived,
New tenants
Have a tiny picket fence
And flowers.
There's a supermarket soon
And the big Burdock Way.
But just here, invisible,
Traffic sounds like a lazy sea.
Summer.
Ruth Enright