Emerging once again from European Union,
we’re back in his footsteps on this path
by late-flowering apartment balconies.
For a moment, it’s as if we’re in a film –
not a high-concept blockbuster at the mall,
but a comedy the critics would call ‘gentle’.
Nothing much happens. We cross roads
where marathon stragglers slow to a walk.
A pigeon displays an iridescent flash
around its neck. Our city’s metal labyrinth
has shifted its walls. There’s no change
in the till at the non-stop corner shop.
And, yes, that’s the evening settling down
to what we know. A local restaurant fills
with fans of Sunday league football.
There’s the smell of frying onions,
a newly opened book, a list of verbs.
And now comes a sort of hunkering down –
the chill in the air, thick winter coats,
a readiness for the journey towards spring.
