¡°Getting used to London¡±

1: The light fades
And the shadows fall like dominoes
Slipping to ground, from red-gold homes
In a fit of vertigo.
Your shadow seeps from you
Angular over irregular surfaces
You¡¯ve tried to cut
Where it ties to you
In echoing cross-purposes.
The Sun gets lower
And the light begins
Its lonely stretch and curve
Until the night
With it¡¯s own private right
Lets dark and shadows merge.

2: When you first started to rhapsodise
Over minutiae, so eloquently
I was repulsed.
I saw dreams in you. Romanticisation of the mundane. Wishful superimpositions.
Slowly though, I started to see the same way.
A single falling leaf,
Was eloquent, rhapsodical
In the minutiae of autumn trees and traffic.
Now, the traffic sings in the morning,
A great orchestra
Conducted with verve by traffic lights
And roundabouts.
The horns sing. A pure vibrato, clean and rising up.
The fumes twist, elegiac, like the sweat rising off
The first violinists back.
I acknowledge frowns and violence
I choke on the elegiac fumes sometimes
Many a leaf-fall happens independent of my aesthetic appreciation
Streets are cluttered and toes are trodden on
And often I fail to smile, when perhaps I should.
But this thought
This Daoist capture
Of grace in movement
This singing
Which permeates all
Still echoes in my ear,
when I wish to listen
Clearly