A Sunday Morning Scene, London,1971. Poem by Ananta Madhavan

St. James Park on an October morning in London.
The benches are almost empty, a few unshaven men
Are sprawled or slumped on them.
A girl is hidden by her Sunday paper,
A young couple is absorbed in tantalizing talk.
The debris of yesterday is being swept away:
Fags, cartons, cones, masses of autumn leaves,
Each a promissory note of regeneration
On the Bank of Springtime, Ltd.
The bridge in hazy sunlight over the pond;
Pigeons alight on the railings; ducks and pelicans
Essay the still water, each bird with its LP record
In centripetal ripples, willows weeping into them.
I read Senryus.
We are shadow poems in random syllables uncounted.