Gusts of small boys drift
along the spring wet streets
the flags go flap flip flap
and the fountains blow long mists to leeward.
The town tires me, bores me stiff
- the elegant collegiate city
O for a new breath, a wine draught
of new friends in strange places
with wind and lean pines
hooked into mountains..........
not clinicians.
It's spring in England,
green shoots burst with chlorophyll
the pressure of the sap is not withstood,
the force that through them drives me
sprouts leaves and a shy flower.
New places, new faces,
the wine drunk stars!
Pine trees perhaps ?
The great firs that blow like barquentines.
Yet - not alone.
Let it not be alone
under the masts and rigging of the great trees,
twig song and unsteady stars.
Not that there the heart strains
or emptyness cloys lacking comprehension,
simply this, I cannot sail great ships alone.
Tired of all in this town
but one.......
Please let us go travelling together...
the new faces
the new stars.