hives swarm wordlessly
‘round red brick mills and towers;
summer shines mournful
as time sips mallow tonic,
her nectar of vim.
–
doors shut, hearts open,
cotton clouds beaming, ignorant;
amber eyes witness
voiceless mouths darned shut
while salted raindrops
forge pint-sized rivers
between the cobbled ginnels,
resounding silence muffles
happier mondays;
–
night and day converge
–
time shuffles past
with its red-faced ‘ee-ar, our kid’;
hives begin to hum
as the drones retake their posts,
until our buzzing city
chugs hoppy nectar
through a balmy night of vim.
codemawson 