Early Sunday Morning
There across the ghostly Green
Morning mist lies damp, dark steaming
The listless perambulation of gulls
Herring, Common, Black-headed
The Crammer lies still and glassy-eyed
Its pond-side bad-tempered swans
Honking ducks, and soot-black rooks
Hunker down amongst the grass
And in the children’s playground
Moisture drips from coloured climbing frames
Its roundabouts and slides abandoned
Till the sun has further risen
Spreading grudging light and warmth
And then, of a sudden, a tumbling peal of bells
A pattern oft-repeated
Carried from St James’ tower
Booming through the stillness
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