The park recovers from winter storms
and now the Channel is peaceful down below,
an army of daffodils wave
against a backdrop over verdant grass.
I stare at the sculpted bird hedge
as ever immaculately trimmed.
Under the sun dance the shadow of tress,
a touch of winter still in the spring breeze.
As I admire a rainbow of flowers
from flowerbeds in this fine park
bursting forth in the March sunshine
reminding me of the Saviour’s tale
for Easter will be with us soon.
Ghosts stare from Memorial seats
as I watch innocuous clouds pass by
in the most gorgeous cerulean sky.
I listen to a sonata of birdsong
a grey squirrel races up a tree
and people with prams and dogs wander past.
Then I view a drunk on the bench
ranting at a world which does not hear
but I’ve come here to silently reflect
and the wind carries my anger away
in the park on a beautiful spring day.