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