Paradise Frost

As bitter as a Seville orange,
the wind bites and blows
the plastic bags and cans
around the rusting wheelie.
A skeletal pye-dog cocks a leg
absently rusting already tired metal;
an alien number plate rushes past
- children late for class-
by a year and ten minutes.
A lone and grubby child’s sock
fruits a grimy, rimey bush;
the sun cannot return
soon enough to save it.