On Walthamstow Marsh


London breathes in
Brackish pools
Yellowed-straw grass
Swathed and rippling
In flattened heat.

London breathes out
Of frosted ever-green
Caught sharp, up sticks
With sparkled mist breath
Draped from branches.

London breathes in
Through lungs drenched
And a throat clogged
With gold-red velvet
Drawing in twilight smoke.

London breathes out
To fill its lungs
To burst at first-green
To bring home swarms of swifts,
Insect thick.

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