35 – Cumulus

Poem number 35
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Cumulus
.
In wonder did he lie beneath
The clouds as white as children’s teeth
That puffed along on summer breeze
So common yet designed to please
A myriad of giant shapes
A chicken’s head, a bunch of grapes
He lay, he gazed, he wondered then
He closed his eyes, and slept again.

85 – Puddles Gather

Poem number 85
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Puddles Gather
.
Puddles gather where they will
And damp my winter shoes,
Abandoned water orphans
Born to varied shapes and hues.
Marking out the dips and bumps
Of roadworks long expired –
A topographic history
Of a path both old and tired.
Scars from where the gasmen dug
And pockmarks from BT
Filled up now with water
Like a thousand tiny seas.
The patchwork quilt of poor repairs
The jobs done on the cheap,
Reservoirs and oceans
Rivers, lakes two inches deep.
And me, a striding giant
Causing ripples as I walk
Tsunamis in the puddles
Litter bobbing round like corks.
By the weekend global warming
Will evaporate the scene
Leaving just the sodden leaf mulch
As a clue to what has been,
But soon the rains will turn back time
The landscape will refill –
In a world so full of roadworks
Puddles gather where they will.