Sefton Park
Making it back to the house through the park
the grandparents with their buggy
the family with their dog
emerge from foggy
rain, looming trees
and hazardous
dark.

The waterbirds’ wakes arrow and slip
towards them on the blueblack
of the lake. Seagulls
boil in their flock
squeal like rust.
In a certain
dip

near the heart the traffic is
unheard. There was a kingfisher
my first as well as
theirs and we all saw
its fully turquoise
beelining from
sight.

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