or, AN ODE TO BRITISH SUMMER TIME
Angels singing from Eden
Baptist Church — I don't know
about that — though definitely
birds singing outside in Grafton
Street at 5 a.m. where doors down
the young couple who've just moved in
are cooing like doves come first light
—— and later, on bikes, in Jesus' Green,
a mother and daughter singing — as they pass,
I hear my laughter as I read written
in cloud on the backs
of their sky blue coats — the words:
only the birds can sing.
