I remember that
it certainly rained then
darkening footprints in the wet grass,
streaking silver on
shiny new boots
and glossing the blackbird
on the garden fence
There was waist-high snow
and the milk-cart stuck
like an ice-bound ketch.
From the late night window
I watched the silent fall of white,
turned black against the
moonlit sky
What a wind there was,
whipping lisle-stockinged legs,
snatching school hats and freezing
our noses on Princes Street,
waiting for the tram. The dry
leaves swirled up and round
with the laughter of childhood.
I remember that.