On King Street

A turmoil-tinged tranquility…
Billowing in: breeze-borne leaves.
The Trow’s resuscitated – see
the blackwhite gable draped
along in hanging baskets
buffeted (The milk stout plummets!)
‘pon their links of chain.
Change…

To tread o’er written paths,
all taken; making all the diff’rence
lie the time ‘n space in constant
flux, ephemerally constant,
coursing in their formless unity.
Now’s then ‘n then’s yet further.
Passed…


Image creditSimon Holliday

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