and after the opening of your birthday presents
All afternoon among feet and voices and faces
in with the janglings of light, and through the road-jungle
I stumbled, finding my purchase in different places . . .
once simply stopped, where at a wide road-angle
relaxed at railings for twenty minutes of sun
I let London out of my head, as it passed by.
And I was back at your bed, the birthday begun,
the sons were nervously watching gift-wrappings fly,
and you were the vital heart of the picture I saw
and lost in the sun and road. Busier than I
you handled at home the day’s traffic and roar
of children, their friends . . . then I counted my change,
blessed you, soon found that I had no more to buy,
and hurried on home, to more of our sweet exchange.