Sitting on a sticky carpet of damp grass by the River Itchen

while the thin sun coyly brings itself out

from hiding behind the still bare trees

and the dark wandering clouds.

 

Four clear empty beer bottles rattle beside me

as I reach for my lighter

and see shadows slowly shift in the gathering daylight.

Heartbreak is a hard one at daybreak

when you’ve decided that a night in the park

is the best night that’s left.

 

But as the dawn’s storm comes crawling

so does the knowledge

that today is still here.

And so am I,

alone in a new cold twilight

with no summer birdsong.

 

Then there's a sparkle in the day's shining grass,

where some spider’s night web

has connected two blades

and two more then two more

spinning outward eternally,

a million shining tiny filaments

are connecting them all.