This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 3 Number 3, 1974.
In the ParkA morning of spent gales and drifting clouds -
The summer breaking up. A transition,
Catching us unawares . . .
The park in the early morning.
Seagulls coasting into the wind
And a single man in uniform walking purposefully across
miles of grass.
Is it the patience of a bent spring, or etiolation? -
...
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