Sport 42: 2014
Our City And Its Hills
Our City And Its Hills
for Bill
The steampunk city’s Buddhist rain
Is marvellously hushed
It always thus affects my brain
And stops me getting lushed
The steampunk city’s Buddhist rain
Wets rooftop flue and tank
It makes me want to catch a train
And ride through cuttings dank
The steampunk city’s Buddhist rain
Is not unkind to cats
It falls on cenotaph and crane
And blackens many hats
Some put their faith in sleeping-pills
Or brash domestic wines,
But the rain has altars in the hills
And cloisters in the pines,
The rain has altars in the hills
And cloisters in the pines