Every morning the Tube
trains sparked their way across points and
through grubby fields
off to plunge deep into London
Every morning, a deafening of birds
massive dawn chorus
rambunctious, full, above all loud
louder that the traffic on an infant A40
Every morning, the sound of garage doors opening
bicycles and mopeds eased quietly out
Fathers heading off to shifts
in the factories two miles south
then back to sleep, to dream
teenage longings
waiting for the alarm
and the rush to school
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
