There are times when it all gets too much
and I have to switch off the TV and the radio
and my brain, and escape outside.
I say good afternoon to next door's dog.
Heard the latest about the government? he barks.
You couldn't make it up. I smile weakly
and make excuses before walking on
past the pub, whose sign creaks in protest
against the steep rise in the cost of living.
From the tall branches of the tree opposite,
a seminar is in progress; a squirrel sets out
his ideas about how to alleviate the refugee crisis
while a chaffinch flaps his wings angriliy.
It all gets too much for one leaf, who hurls
itself down, remembering Trump.
I feel the murderous eyes of a crow upon me,
brooding about global warming no doubt,
and make my way down quickly to the river
where - for a few precious, stolen moments -
I close my eyes and listen to the water
as it laps gently against the bank
until I hear a slap of wet feet approaching.
Thought I'd find you here, the duck quacks.
Now what the hell we gonna do about Putin?
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