Picture: Albert Square by Steven Scholes
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Fresh is a deep breath,
Encompassing it all.
Here’s the sky, above high towers:
Concrete, metal, and glass;
Old marbles of white,
Red bricks piled-up tight,
Above which, persistent is the grass.
The clouds
And the blue behind them sing to me,
As the solitary maple tree,
Somehow still green.
Afternoon, winter:
Meek python-trams moving softly;
Victorian windows, echoes of Venice;
Medieval memories overshadowing the streets.
Only now, I really see your grace,
Mancunio,
The beauty of form beyond form,
Of the dream beyond the dream.
Only now…
Is there any other moment anyway?
Herons
Sunshower 