Now we're up on the edge

and over, on the mountain

with mountains beyond. Behind us,

            in the dark

of the valley, villages are embers

There is a place (believe me,

            she said) where if, if

                          you go beyond

the street lights, to the lane's end,

                   ...not white like the snow

more moon-panther or silvery cloud-cat

with her ripple-patterns melting as (oh,

but she's beautiful) you stare

The seagulls think we live at the seaside:
the tower blocks are their cliffs;
they swoop for fish in the gutter
but are happy that it's last night's fried rice.

We don' have a Springtime like some folk
Who live in dem colder place,
but we have a time when de soft rain come,
an' tease open de seedcase