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Sport 19: Lightworks

Andrew Johnston — London Winter

page 181

Andrew Johnston

London Winter

How the rain
shines on stone,

bare trees let the light through.
Each day's an attic, grey—

you bump your head on cloud.
The sun fades from star to rumour,

a red ball lost in fog.
Kneel and pray to the fire instead:

your wishes will be granted, as wishes are,
little by little.