Full moon over Walkley

You wondered why there was a lack of trust,

why there was disinterest.

Defining us as clients and consumers

as you looked down from your guilded, lawyer’s lofty height.

So I walked home with a bristling tread and saw

clouds, burnt umber striped and defiant

above gated city’s crystallised lights.

I saw shock of full moon

and cried look up you citizens, break out.

©Helen Butler

 

Image courtesy of Steve F via Wikimedia Commons

World Poetry Day

• Read Ian McMillan’s poem “Thinking of String“
• Professor Matt Flinders’ new blog “Shake your chains: Politics, poetry and protest“