A Seasonal Look* Poem by Ian Bowen

The pale pink blooms
of busy, spring avenues,
glow in a warm light.
Tables and chairs spill
onto wide pavements;
where coffee and cakes
hide in the shade
of coloured umbrellas.
Waiters, white and starched,
look under plates for tips
and stare downward,
on newly suntanned breasts.

The dark green leaves
of busier, summer avenues
shimmer in a searing light.
Tables and chairs spill
onto crowded pavements;
where cold drinks and ice cream
rapidly melt, beneath
colour-fading umbrellas.
Waiters, white and starched
look under plates for tips
and stare downward
on now nut-brown breasts.

Fallen leaves,
clutter gutters, and later
crystal shards of ice
will hang above empty avenues;
too white and bright.
Tables, chairs and umbrellas
will hide redundant in cellars.
Waiters, white and starched,
will amble behind closed doors,
still looking under plates, but
not bothering to stare downward...

on now woolen covered breasts.