Incongruity
Still, soaked, dripping morning;
Stark trees, black against the day –
Broken by a flash, a flutter
Vulgar green jars pallet of soft grey.
Interlopers, one and all
Memories of bright and cobalt skies
Intercepting cheap and vivid hues
And white light pools in tired commuter eyes.
Silent, hunched, damp, morose
Cut glass affluence, yet …here we are again
Conspiratorial smiles, a very British day
Standing. Waiting. Looking. Here’s the train.
Escapees they are, and unabashed.
Shaking drops exotic feathers fly –
Shrieking and untrammelled by tradition,
Ignoring taupe, quiet cousins in the sky.
They dare to come disrupt the natural order,
Unleash their noisy chaos like a fire,
Their habits are those of another country,
Perspective their exotic charms inspire.
heatherbeachosh 