Gusts of small boys drift

along the spring wet streets

the flags go flap flip flap

and the fountains blow long mists to leeward.


The town tires me, bores me stiff

- the elegant collegiate city

O for a new breath, a wine draught

of new friends in strange places

with wind and lean pines

hooked into mountains..........


not clinicians.


It's spring in England,

green shoots burst with chlorophyll

the pressure of the sap is not withstood,

the force that through them drives me

sprouts leaves and a shy flower.


New places, new faces,

the wine drunk stars!

Pine trees perhaps ?

The great firs that blow like barquentines.


Yet - not alone.

Let it not be alone

under the masts and rigging of the great trees,

twig song and unsteady stars.

Not that there the heart strains

or emptyness cloys lacking comprehension,

simply this, I cannot sail great ships alone.


Tired of all in this town

but one.......

Please let us go travelling together...


the new faces

the new stars.