EARLY MORNING TOWN

HERE IN LIVING IN EACH OTHERS POCKETS TOWN
THE MAD TICK- TOCKING OF THE CLOCK
DISTURBES AND FRIGHTENS THE MOUSE,
WHILE BUS PASS CARRYING PEOPLE
SOME WHO WEAR HATS, SEMI-BOWED
FROM THE WEIGHT OF COSTANTLY RAINED UPON HEADS
OTHERS WHEELCHAIR BOUND NOW,
DUE TO A LIFETIME OF WET DUFFLECOAT
AND WEBBED WELLIED FEET

HERE IN THIS MUFFLED WELSH TOWN
WHERE THE SUMMER CAME SAHARAD FOR A WEEK,
AND BURNED TO A CRISP WE STOOD IN THE MELTING TARMAC STREETS
LOOKING SKYWARDS IN WONDER AND SURPRISE
AT THE STRANGE GLOW IN THE SKY
STILL CLAD IN HAT, DUFFLECOATS AND WELLIES
I KNOW DAFT , BUT IT CAUGHT US OUT SEE,
WE WERE'NT EXPECTING IT

MRS. PORTMANTO DIED, A TERRIBLE THING
WELL I MEAN IT WAS'NT SURPRISING REALLY
PULLING THAT TWO WHEELED, TARTAN CHEQUED, 
FULL TO BURSTING WITH TINNED FOOD TROLLEY
UP A 1 IN 3 HILL IN THAT HEAT, IN A HALF DAMP, NOW DRYING
DUFFLECOAT, HAT AND MOLTEN WELLIES
SHE STUCK TO THE PAVEMENT BY CORONATION ROAD
AND FRIED, TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE AFFAIR

THE TOWN STANDS GIBLETS BARE TO THE ELEMENTS
BEING PROBED, PRODED AND FELT UP
BY THE WRITER PUSHING HIS PEN UP HILL
CHECKING EVERY CAVITY , LIKE A PRISON BODY SEARCH
NO DOOR LEFT UN-PICKED, NO WINDOW LEFT UN-PEEPED
NO BACK ENTRANCE UNDISCOVERED

THE SMELL OF SMOKED WOODBINE FISH 
CREEPS AROUND A FISHMONGERED CORNER
LIKE A RIVER TOWN EARLY MORNING MIST
AS DAI " I TAKE MY BICYCLE TO BED " DAVIES
RISES EARLY TO FREEWHEEL AFTER BREAKFAST
DOWN THE 3 IN 1 , LIKE OIL , HE SLIPS A QUIETLY SHADOW
DOWN TO THE BAKERY DOORS

THE EARLY BUS COUGHS AND GEAR BOX GRINDS
IT'S WAY UP THE WINDING HILL PAST
NUMBER 3 TUMBLEDOWN COTTAGES
THIRD PAST THE POSTBOX ON THE LEFT
WHERE MRS EVANS STARES OUT THROUGH A PAINED WINDOW
AT THE CHAPEL GRAVEYARD
WHERE HER BEST SUITED  HUSBAND 
STILL DANCES UNDERGROUND
OTHER THAN THE INCIDENT ,
SHE RECALLS EVERYONE SAID " IT WAS A DAMN GOOD KNEES-UP "