A little sun warms the bones,
loosens an inner spring
wound so tight it might snap.
Something dormant wakes
a memory of earth and air,
green and song and being
even here, in the concrete tunnel
beneath the city, creeping, beetling
with early morning traffic, ant-like to work.
‘Urban bees do better’
says an expert voice on the car radio
‘less poison in the city’.
Breathe in fumes from the car in front,
anesthetise thought and feeling -
think not too deeply, life will find a way.
Move upwards from the dark,
feel the subtle unfurling of self
reaching for light, reaching for -
From the car, stopped at lights,
watch a pair of magpies build a spikey nest
in a skeleton tree, a tower block backdrop.
Two crows, bill and coo in bird love,
oblivious to the cars below
parked, rigid with resentment.