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seasonal greetings
Autumnal leaves falling,heaping like a dirt-yellow cloak at Hotham Park.
Squirrels with their summer springs
hop a wild hop on the park's weather-greyed ledges.
I in my monsoonal spirits trudge through the heaps as on a conveyer belt.
the monotony of the cruel seasons bite through the marrow.
The narrow path in the seasoned park
seemed a narrowing of my self...lost amidst the cacophony of twittering cuckoos and munching rabbits.
I in my monsoonal spirits and sunshiny self cannot weather this,the English weather.

(a homesick confession by the lane in
Hotham Park,bognor w.sussex)