Day's doorway closes, people rush along
pavements, time cut short as thoughts before sleep ;
a car slams shut, cocoons a growing warmth
whose wings steam the drive through darkening glass.
Two walk by with bargains, one big, one small,
sweets for peace and loo rolls at half price.
A sprightly one steps from the card shop, bag
new-smooth paper stiff-cornered, holds a wish
of delight given, while an old one waits
for the scraggy pal on a lead to sniff
a planter put to gather Best In Bloom
head turned politely as bouquet's added.
Streetlights seep flattening white, blind
us to ink-light of dream-harbouring sky
where as if at God's baton tip, starlings
meet, surge, melt, crescendo wild shapes of joy
while politicians far away make plans
in which neither starlings nor we survive