November, Early Morning
open sky washed clean by a night of rain
sharp breath of autumn covering everything
London almost pleasant in the 6 a.m. dawn light
leaf mould underfoot and the twinklings of birdsong
I consider my place in it all
great web of man machine trees birds roads
great urban tangle that holds us all
beneath feet spaghetti of cables
above head streaks of vapour trails
there is not a corner of this city that is not full
1.11.06.
poem by Jim McDonald
Added by Poetry Lover
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