Monday, 30 March 2009


Still looking stark from below, maybe they have surprised themselves by bursting out into leaf too soon, too gaudy in a sun still thin. But viewed from down the street, together they make a blush of green, bright against the slate of frowning sky. 

Everything is slightly odd in this light. The tall narrow houses are the colour of melting ice cream. Their shadows are purple grey. Their top floors still flooded with sun have a pink tinge like cheap makeup. 

Behind the blossom, behind the tree tops full of chirrup, a small luxury - the first seclusion from the neighbours across the street.