Jill Bamber


I know the secret ways to reach
these high woods, hanging there,
seen over roofs,
and how to walk from patch
to green patch; avoid the street-grid,
share alleys with dancing dogs,
slip-ways for strays.

Through crevices in fences,
I see the sun's lovely litter
of play; deck-chairs and swings
in bordering gardens
this city's sanity in a net
spread like a knitted blanket
and stitched together with hedges.

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