Burley Park:  Leeds 4

An amazing morning in almost May

Too early for the woodpecker to tap,

Soft, green leaves wave in honour of the day,

I slow down, breathe in, and then I stop.

These few acres hold a world within

Their old walls, graffitied railway fence,

They care for lungs where city air is thin,

And petrol fumes have ambushed what was once

Pure. Sometime if I squint it almost seems

To be a country wood, a meadow in the sun

But these may be an old poet’s dreams.

I shake myself, the magic is all done.

And then a sound that catches me and thrills,

The woodpecker awakes. And then he drills.

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