His breathing deepens, starting a first circuit
after stretching, then settles into two-stroke
rhythm with each stride. No-one else hears
those creaking joints roll and ease in oily air.
All the English trees are silent now, holding
their own counsel, trying not to catch his eye,
but the Eucalyptus beside the bowling green
waves its sociable leaves every time he passes.
by Oliver Comins
Oliver lived in York for a while where, among other things, he drove a laundry van and played darts in the Yorkshire Super League. He does his own washing in West London nowadays. His collection 'Oak Fish Island' is available here.