on being given five keys


Swirling mist was

framed perfectly

softly and invitingly

by the ornate

gilt frame of the

poet's own antique

bedchamber mirror and

his heart soared as he

turned to another glad

morning's poetic

contemplation whilst

others wasted with

complaints about London's

sooty riverside weather


If only and if only

William pondered aloud

if they could but hear the

misty busker's subway music

quieting primary response

giving way to secondary joys

subterraneously they'd know

glad satisfaction polished

pen in hand leaping to action

Listen now - listen to

silence swirling and the

clip clip clopping of the

hackney cab heading for the

factory yards passing

lamplighters' ladders leaning


ready for tonight -

hooves ringing on

cobbles where a

century and a

quarter from now a

dropped mobile phone will

sound sonorous too until the

landing renders a

shattering into

nine or ten or eleven

pieces of technology made

useless before iTunes

finished Carole's playlist and

You've Got A Friend


And he remembered the

tornado in Michigan and the

mirror's paling in that

clapboard house as he

shaved whilst listening to

Banjo the youngest son of the

place playing saxophone in the

basement and thought that out of

mists and mirrors and

life's fierce blowing

poetry shines forth and the

dolorous horn of the

lighthouse makes a musical

instrument of lamplit misty morning