Aubade: London N.W.1. In odd-coloured socks I blink from basement gloom; The garden is one more room, though infinitely brighter And more varied, its walls tall weather-beaten brick Supporting nexuses of drains, overhead, Of course, the sky up into whose cloud-strewn ceiling A pigeon unwinds with a whir of wings Then earth-defying clatter. Like mad shepherds’ crooks The hollyhocks sport maroon and indigo rosettes. The goldenrod is botany’s Mae West; A convulvulus raise chalices to the vanished moon. Her wake a scattered necklace of dew, Only the aerials know where she’s gone to. Now enter trim Senor thrush; oriented by daisies He tilts an ear to the twinkling turf, A piano tuner for whom notes mean worms. Down amidst the undergrowth our cat plays tiger. Dizzily I stand here upon Summer’s precipice, Mind aswim with names of flowers: clownish Regalia of dahlia, delphinium, phlox, Dandelion clocks launching seed toward next year. Martin Bennett | Mudlark No. 12 Contents | Rhymes: An Irregular Sonnet on Their Elusiveness