Winter TreesAll the complicated detailsof the attiring andthe disattiring are completed!A liquid moonmoves gently amongthe long branches.Thus having prepared their budsagainst a sure winterthe wise treesstand sleeping in the cold.
Up on the hill, beyond my flat, a little park called “Angel Meadow” looks down over assorted red brick buildings: private accommodation; railway bridges; a former institution for the poor called “Charter St. Ragged School”. The park seems quietly proud of its wrought iron and its rolling green grass. Maybe the “Angel” was a prediction, foreshadowing the over-crowded graveyard that was located here. This area used to be a large Irish district and a notoriously bad Victorian slum full of cholera and other deprivations. Friedrich Engels (aptly named) once called it “hell upon earth” – and an “indignation of the industrial epoch”. Very reassuring! Happily, times have changed since then, with heavy regeneration. Industrial forces have found ways to combine with social, civic, and humane ones.
Bare winter trees fill the park and look beautiful through misty rain.