Lichen

Beneath the lifting London mist,
I feel the weight of wintry heat
across my coated shoulders.

In the trees, on the walls and rooftiles,
sun-fed morning lichen
attends the change of season.

The End of Winter

All of a sudden, the bitterness is gone.

The air is still bare, the grasses grey,
the leaves sheathed,
and the blossoms’ eyelids closed

but there’s warmth in the pale afternoon
and for the first time since September
the light is surprising.