Number 3 Concerning London.

Third in a little series on London.

Cool breezes blow through cornfields and orchards:
Gently buffeting leaves and buds on branches,
Scattering seeds,
Spreading blossoms.
Trees flex in the wind and ears sway,
Appreciating the winds touch,
Revelling in a break from the still air.
Cool breezes blow through the city streets,
Reflect off walls,
Are divided by buildings corner’s,
And channelled into harassing torrents.
Stiff trees resist and their bows are broken.
Neatly planted Ewes along neatly planted verges spit white splinters.
Their treacherous leaves torn and shredded.

Rain falls gently upon the soil where it is welcomed       gratefully.
Rivers swell and fill their banks.
Water subsides,
Banks bloom,
And bees gorge themselves on nectar.
Rain falls gently upon asphalt where it is not wanted.
It is divided and collected,
Poured into pipes, which fill and burst.

“Our city protects us from the outside.
While it’s cold outside, in here our city keeps us warm.
When it snows outside and water turn to ice,
In here we spread salt and grit and the roads stay open.
Our trains run below the ground
And passengers remove their jackets to keep cool.
We are happier, more content.
You can keep your silly land,
It’s of no interest to us.”