I remember the old stone bridge,

Putney, and Bishops Park.

The Pond.

Swans sweeping the Thames.

Blistering blue flashes,

A budgie,

Lost to its home, flying

Frantic in London trees,

All alone.

I remember floating in feathers,

Face down, unafraid,

Sinking slow,

White dress, a wing spanned

Across the water.

Going under.

Hauled out, to be born again,

Into lumpen life,

And sorrow.