Kathryn's profile

London Fields

Written by Kathryn Marchbank on Tuesday the 6th of January 2015
As one
crowd of morning crows parade a tamed patch of grass rich gravity

The same
blackened horde might loosen in the leafed privacy of their evening folly

To steal
the last glance of sun as it nakedly blinks,

Upon a
striptease of bark and lichen;

A reminder
to redecorate

But they
contemplate such wisdoms that posthumously echo an afternoon at King Henry's

Below their
Belsen, noble roots lead as a sweeping staircase to the penthouse suite,

To a tree
top mansion that now speaks contemporary east London.

A dog
chastised by his absent leg, finds balance

scratching a coiffed hair rump,

Then bounds
unwitting, among chequer board turf prints,

upon a gown of spring summer twenty ten.

And descend
the pride of Hackney creatives

court in fashion's harlequin masks

air distilled by wine and beer

collect such days in their pockets,

To revive
energies, lack lustre

the winter year

One of few,
there travels a lamplighter of a differing style

Not secure
of source, electric or gas

neither old, and neither young

Gather on
the broad avenue in regular throng

To hula and

In spinning
stripes and hologram