I was up with the light air
before this day’s sunrise
as the heat broke with
a burglar’s threat
…..
The hall returned to its rented state
by the party’s emptying,
re-stacked stiff back plastic chairs,
and nothing remained of them
…..
Over Buxted, into folklore,
our sniggered-search for Nan Tuck,
the ghost of those woodlands,
a crone, flown from The Uck
…..
Ullage, the short difference,
to be re-recorded
in the skinny red book,
stood soberly-vertical,
behind a jar of slippery
pale-pickled eggs
…..
this slight evening
under a canopy
served fish dishes
and poured short stories
….
Another charity shop has opened up,
its shelves already whiff with stock
…..
That occasional sighting
of high-visibility
stepping down
the High Street
…..
Snogging, lips and faces,
a quick public grope,
outside Cinque Ports,
on the disabled ramp’s slope
…..
I am wobbly, walking home, late, some o’clock,
a trespassed short-cut, over dampened grass;
freezer section-stiffed, a chill in the air,
through this low estate, town-planned care:
…..