In your hometown
the sun takes its time
to peel off its duvet clouds.
But it’s there every day
when it rains short As, cobs and barms.
Wet tarmac is a disco ball
for you to dance through
the orchestra of strangers playing
“Alright pal”. You know the names of
landlords, dry cleaners, the uncle of
two friends from your pre-school.
You have chosen between blue and red.
You are asked about. You are recognised.
You are seen. Trains are frequent –
a chance for you to take time
as seriously as it takes you.
You, my son, are a northerner.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Written while listening to ‘My Hometown’ by Bruce Springsteen.