A YEAR IN BIRMINGHAM: A NEW POEM...

A Year In Birmingham

Like some creeping evil, icicles reach over a wall,

Behind which a young lad prepares to sling

A snowball at a fellow, wrapped warm, yet in spats,

Whose steaming breath blows cold into Spring…

The chap, still wearing heavy clothing and spats,

Hangs onto his brolly like in a hammer-throw;

Another man chases his hat, as if rolling a hoop,

For in a true Brummie Summer, the wind doth blow…

Rain slants onto a pillar box and a lurking copper,

A courting couple ‘neath an umbrella hold tight;

The little dog acts innocently as their chaperone,

As an Autumn evening closes into another grim night…

When short days arrive, the rain lashes down harder,

The forlorn lady leans sadly into a gale;

There is no sweetheart, there is no chaperone dog now,

So has Winter upon her short romance cast a veil?

Pete Ray

October 2017

A postcard about Birmingham from Mary B Harding’s collection, used postally in 1913. 

The barometer reckons ‘change’ between ‘rain’ and ‘fair’…