Seen from the poet’s loft:
Red London bus, double-decker,
then a postal van.
Grassy yards where in the beds
Tulips, bluebells, wilder forget-me-nots
Now show.
A man in puffy jacket,
fluorescent against ground grey
far away.
A neighbour shakes a sheet
up to the washing-line.
Pigeons, magpies, parakeets,
finches, robins, full-bodied crows
frequent the rooftiles,
Conifer,
Wooden fence below.
Some say on such a day
The only colour to be seen
Is grey.
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You may also enjoy these other spring poems:
The first of two poems about blossoms
They’re purple but blue better rhymes
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See Instagram (@beadedquillwrites) for more photo’s plus some micro, everyday poems from my recent trip.
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Beaded Quill 