ANOTHER FAT DAWG SPECIAL COMES HOME TO ESSEX:
Driving south to Kent to soundcheck for Jools.
Pheasants dance ritual, high on the pull of Spring.
New life bursts from furrows (this year ‘beans’).
Bedroom windows creak, ajar, a slight breeze, cool morning.
Birdsong, sound clash, beaks bounce between branches.
Naked sticks erupt with this season’s green. The sky, a dome of
milk, curdles as the body comes back on line. Another two-day
hang-over, post tour, dodging handshakes of sniffers & coughers,
repeating the mantra,
“I’M NOT GETTING ILL, I’M NOT GETTING ILL, I’M NOT GETTING ILL”