Launch

I’m watching
another splendid
London morning
transform
imperceptibly
into another
afternoon
of layered, mildly
contrasting
blue greys,
companionable,
made moreso
as crows fret
the tree behind
the little brick
opposite
my window perch
on Crystal Palace
Road, braying,
beaks poised
into freshening
wind. Rain
gathers itself
for a long, cold
night. Let it.
Let it paint
the street in light,
send the crows
to grutch in more
expedient shelter.
I have only
these hours
left, to watch,
to point my face
into the wind,
before morning
comes and I
must fly away.