The air is cold with teeth like barbed wire.
Everyone is busy, even the homeless are rattling their cups in expectation.
Smokers, outside the pubs, close their shoulders against the chill,
Mayfair cabs reflect the blue sky, white contrails
and window sill gardenias dance, as if in some
And who’s to say they’re not?
Maybe a law exists,
In physics or art, that explains: ‘the relationship between all things’?
There will be an equation,
The length of a tweet,
That everyone can understand and sellotape to their fridge,
Reminding them each morning,
There is a reason,
And a beautiful sense.