Westhoughton The bright morning splutters on a day like this one The steam white coloured air, cut through shafts of sun And the trees are half shadow half gold with light Everything seen through a wedding veil of white Making people on the bowling green silhouettes And houses are ethereal, shining still wet. Autumn Wet and stale stinking piles of rotting leaves, Swamp the bases of the trees – And natures old remembered romance Leaves – and in its place burnt leaves and crooked trees. Damp draws down drifting, browning leaves Which hug the chilling ground Dank and filled with autumn grief, As dank as autumn, drifting through the town. A clogged canal the cities mirror Reflects chimneys delving deeper and deeper. Oily colours streaked polluted complexion And staring back – through scattered leaves – my grey reflection October Monday There is a storm – a downpour of leaves across my path In October when this red-bricked town is beautiful I leave my house early to walk and watch The drivers de-ice with numerous techniques Scrape, pour, spray, or sit while heaters drone. Mine is boiled water poured whilst wipers wipe Dangerous but quick, ice and steam both white.