Rambling Impressions

of Regents Park

Grass, a black butterfly,
Gel Oberon.
‘We were here with Noah
and Effie and Ophelia.
Just right here.’
The musician playing,
country blues, invisible
in amongst the undergrowth.
Birds singing loudly,
in counterpoint.
A sleepy sweet
dreaming atmosphere.
The steady swish
of the road – the pull
of the city’s undertow.
The sound of the singer
drifting away on the breeze.
A light grey greyhound,
with a luxuriant coat,
scoots sleekly past.
A white vapour trail,
shooting to the sky.
Now he’s talking about
the midnight rambler.
I sit up and spot him
sitting beneath a tree.
A reincarnation
of Gerry Rafferty.
Fair skinned and bearded,
a little Stealers Wheel.
A seabird crying
high above the trees,
lost inland.
The music stops.
The ghost has gone.
Time to go and greet
The crazies of Camden
and Kentish Town.


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