Adrian Salmon

 

 

 

Afternoon on the A658

The sun’s not to be seen but it’s diffusing
everywhere, the whole sky lamp lit,
the storm clouds glowing grey
like rainbows waiting to happen.
Stravinsky’s stabbing from the stereo,
and, right on cue, a corps de ballet
of birds enters stage left.
And even the wanker in the Ford
who cuts in front,
his car screaming ‘Clean me’,
can’t spoil the rightness
of this glimpse of spring.

 

 

Adrian Salmon’s poems have appeared on Algebra of Owls, Ink Sweat and Tears and iamnotasilentpoet. He lives in Bingley, West Yorkshire.

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