Palette of an overcast spring day

Seen from the poet’s loft:Red London bus, double-decker,then a postal van.Grassy yards where in the bedsTulips, bluebells, wilder forget-me-notsNow show. A man in puffy jacket,fluorescent against ground greyfar away.A neighbour shakes a sheetup to the washing-line. Pigeons, magpies, parakeets,finches, robins, full-bodied crowsfrequent the rooftiles,Conifer,Wooden fence below. Some say on such a dayThe only colour to

Airtime will be of little use

What is it even all for? When the End Times come the airtime and savings will be of little use. Every day we lived cost someone something. At some times it was money that cost us. We paid our rent, our food, our taxes, clothes. The leasehold of our lives runs by not to be