My whole world is outside my window-
is the stonework of Trinity House,
where a wanton sun sprawls,
spreadeagled and unselfconscious...

The whole world is the white corner-post of the porch-
a noble column, square, important, Protestant,
and half-a-dozen leaves
of a pagan cherry blossom tree
straining to brush it...

Haven't you ever noticed
the trees pulsing with green?
Don't tell me you haven't seen
a December sky throbbing with blue?
...that you haven't waited while
greyish clouds ambled along,
weighty with vapour, pregnant with rain?

Haven't you ever noticed
a morning breeze
licking hungrily at the leaves?
nuzzling at the trees?

Haven't you ever felt your heart
pounding with the minutes?
flamenco-ing with the seconds?
Hasn't time ever been turgid with waiting?
...waiting...waiting...
Then, later, haven't you felt the minutes,
the seconds, the hours
drowsy from their slow fornicating?