Monday, 17 September 2012

Seasons: intermezzo

A tapestry winged moth circles the lamp
Mistaking it for the limpid moon
I play a dazzling Scarlatti fugue
Scattering arpeggios into the autumn night
A glass of chilled prosecco bubbles noiselessly
On the o├Âlitic balustrade
Soon the septentrional gales will
Sweep in and blast us towards All Saints
Until then let us smile in St Luke's summer
And bare our legs a few days more

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