Mean Time

A break in the rain
and although the grass is wet
tourists wander bench to bench
read the dedications
In loving memory
of John Rhys who loved nothing more
than to visit this park
They read them
like there are rules
each one
and then move on

The wind's got up again, clouds crash around
no bookie'll give you odds on it not raining
Leaves scatter like spooked birds
the branches on a malformed
beech will snap off, any second

Then, just for a moment, I can see no one
On the path, behind some bushes
I hear girls chatting and, further back
the rattle of a pushchair

It's October, first day of GMT
The sun gets a moment, low in the sky
cutting into the side of my eyes
eyes that are too sensitive
My mother says I've only got one pair of eyes
and I don't argue
not now she's forgetful

It's hard to speak to her
on the phone
every Sunday
Here comes the rain

~ ~ ~