[atmosphere] a bit of sunday doggerel

James as he might have appeared countless years ago

Through the space ’tween two-foot thick white concrete walls,
Through two dusty panes of glass and the balcony’s third,
Through the grey oiled mist outside, as it hovers and palls,
The bright yellow derek looms across the road, unheard,
Criss-cross strutted monument in tubular iron;
Cables over unwhirring cogs, now abandoned on this supposed day of rest,
Hang limply from the cross-arm o’er-towering the driving school’s beserk,
Geometric, automotive ballet of colliding hopefuls taking test
And beyond, across the lake, the admired, ignored, cupola’d, log-built kirk.
Pensively by window, cup in hand andother clutching toast,
Gazing, sipping, hoods and jackets scurrying past eight floors below,
Marmalade drips from butter, splattering on the rug;
Expletives, mopping, considering which blogpiece first to post,
Groaning Kasperskied Windows running snail-paced slow,
The blogger taps the table, eye eyeing his balanced mug.