What, already another for your C & C?
Guess so, (after months of almost drought)
and the glyphs between *'s are in italics...
Oh Let There Be Blossom,
let the Malteser packets, Walkers crisp packets, bon bon wrappers,
with all the brightness of their colours get hidden by the suddenness,
let the Sainsbury polybag trees bud and turn cherry pink or white
and hedges whose blackthorn starkness seems aggressive
tipple themselves with the palest of green. Let there be blossom
so even the two old men who silently pad along together –
one with a dog as withdrawn as each other – pause and talk
quietly about something that makes them smile as they look.
Let the refuse trucks rust and orange slab sides gleam with petals,
the woman who tries to sweep them from her path stop and start to grin.
Let there be blossom that flavours the air like chillie powder
flavours what bubbles in pans in kitchens still gleaming with sunlight
while the radio plays love songs and mothers sing, revealing
to themselves such secrets that are coloured in such lyrics
while they stir, tap the rim with a rhythm they’re hardly aware of
as they mouth every *Aaah,* every *Oh,* then smile to themselves.
Bob Cooper
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