In the shadows, wheels within wheels
bring on the restless, reckless blues.
The certainty of English trees,
laying down their marriages in rings,
sucking juices from the earth,
shedding their old lives with the leaves,
could bring a close to this feeling
of litter blown along by careless winds,
of metal mantraps and puppets’ strings.
If only Jupiter, bringer of jollity
would sweep in with his wide grin
leading the dance, handclapping,
so joy to the world can begin.