Regent’s Park, April 2020




Then I thought I heard a lion’s roar, a command
to surrender. But all I could see was cow parsley
lapping the legs of silver birches, an ice house
overtaken by ivy. All flights grounded, birdsong
was flooding the quiet – chinking, fluid, making
a wonder of the midweek. A green woodpecker
laughed from above. I couldn’t see him but knew
he was there. Hemmed in, fancy seeks out cracks
which give onto savannah. It’s not unreasonable
to think I heard a lion, or perhaps it was a tiger.

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