Heathrow

The sun shines in England even
Away above the clouds
A shaking head is grief or ageing
One smile makes it otherwise:
Can I stand to see it?
Can I do anything but witness?
And how is bystander anger
Going to help to sort it?
I have forgotten all my crimes
A lone cicada picks them out
I’d have thought too many
Would be beautiful but dumb.
So all my rationale is dropping
Exhausted from the climb
I walk with the ache of tender steps
I could not have bought with books.
And the raindrops refresh me.
For a fight..