New SeasonNo coats today. Buds bulge on chestnut trees,And on the doorstep of a big, old houseA young man stands and plays his flute.I watch the silver notes fly upAnd circle in the blue sky above the traffic,Travelling where they will.And suddenly this paving-stoneMidway between my front door and the bus stopIs a starting point.From here I can go anywhere I choose.
-Wendy Cope
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