Morning In London

Aprils mist… Easy flowing of mornings gift Bearing the tidings of baker and fisherman The phantom fog rolling onward With melancholy gray tendrils reaching Into the ancient alleyways of Tower Hamlet Over the roof of great Westminster Abbey Seizing the city in its siege of silence Here I walk… Enraptured in its placidity Balancing upon the edges of grief and delight While Big Ben echoes the hour And the gulls cry out from Canary Wharf I walk the streets of my ancestors’ city Traversing through fog of centuries past Waiting for its hand to envelop me For a moment I am home...