Not Everything in Black and White Makes Sense

I found a great poetry site last night (oops, I’m a poet and I didn’t even… nah, ferget it): The Clock’s Loneliness. A good collection of poems there, but also some very funny comments, mainly centred around the ones which presumably are on the English Literature GCSE syllabus.

Anyway, it being Valentine’s Day (happy Valentine’s, all you gorgous women!) which should probably be renamed National Doggerel Day, and since I haven’t posted any of my drivelling doggerel here for ages, and since I had such a wonderful early (-ish) morning stroll down with Gizmo, here is the rhyming version of today’s walk:

As far down Bole Hill as I dare go
Fly seven magpie encircling a crow;
Pied cawks and skrawks show crow’s fair game
He holds, then folds back whence he came.

Uphill, my lurcher at my feet,
Return to our habitual beat;
When, at the top, I turn and stare,
One thousand white gulls fill the air.