West End Night-Walk in Edinburgh
The blackbird dawn comes at night
There’s orange over Leith and grey overhead
Crossing the over-high Dean Bridge
And the lane sneaks down the hill
The deep village shadow-wallows
Somnolent in soft cascade echoes
Standing on the lower bridge among
Mills towers gloom-trees you lean
Over to see the river’s purling
And bats’ flit and swirl anonymous
In obscure hunting fervour above
The ripples you turn and reascend
Enter the West End’s level figures
Dawn-quiet geometry Georgian greys
Sober prospect of three-spire Saint Mary’s
Sleeping consulates and limp flags
Chimneys rake the sky with pot-rows
Gap-toothed in their unemployment
Work down the wide coach-way pavement
And find a pale crossroad square
Benches attendant around a statue
And sit in milk-light to wait for nothing
Day’s beginning an eternity away
A gaping pause in the city’s patterns
