the city melts into the morning
over it a sky the pale end of blue
and improbable clouds all hues
of white and grey heaped
in heavy shapes
a hat a dog a bird in flight
on the Promenade
a woman hoves
into view blue shirt strains
over an improbable bosom
hair springs from
an improbable white hat
who would have thought it?
the sky down here to say
gidday
Mary McCallum
This is fun and from a long time ago (10 years?) when I was getting back into my poetry again. My subject became what was outside my door and where I walked. I've polished this poem up, though, in the past week, because I'm working as co-editor on an Eastbourne Anthology of writing and thought I should go back to some of my Eastbourne poems and pop them into the mix for consideration. Why not?
Please check out the Tuesday Poem Third Birthday Poem which is in its third week now - 11 poets have posted 11 stanzas and there are more to come. I love the way it's going...
