The view from heaven

Smooth cars flow like water
along the Clyde expressway.
Past the statue of the martyrs,
the innocence of sailboats
and the wind chastises strangers,
chases last night`s promise
to the howling wolves
of memory
again.

And morning breaks her heart
as she watches a blood sun rise
over grey Gorbals tower blocks
while the baby`s cry festers
all her new beginnings,
she so needs the dawn to notice
how her hair is touched by ravens
but the day is blind and cruel,
it snarls through the wine`s kiss
again.

As the city resurrects
life and hope and sorrow,
there are flowers in the gutters,
diamonds in the precincts,
but the window frames tomorrow
with all it will contain
the courtyard and the sparrows,
and the wind`s ragged clouds
again.