Happy New Year.

Happy New Year.

I am up now to watch the Arsenal versus Fulham game.

The first day of another year.

There is order

Even in the random

Roll of thunder

Peeling across a steel grey sky

The frantic caw of a crow

Calling its mate home

Before the onset of a storm

The chatter from an over-cluttered

Balcony

Serving early evening cocktails

To a crush of neighbours

Barely recognised

From the occasional hello

Clever

Party planners

Ensure there are few complaints

There are no

Censorious exclusions

Which almost backfire

When the quiet old lady

Wearing the twinset and pearls

Makes a pass at the butcher

With the cougar on his arm

His crib sheet scrunched

Up in a pocket

With his rubber gloves

Nobody knows where the vicar

Came from

But he likes a dram or two

The old guy who looks like a bulldog

Turns out to have the voice

Of an angel

And the man from downstairs

Thanks his lucky stars

He is only a short walk

From home

The rain is a welcome reminder

Of the environment

As paper plates and plastic cups

Are disposed of carefully

Single-use

Is no use though

Which is a topic of conversation

For the teenage fan club

In the kitchen

Sharing shy glances

And whispered asides,

Over the noise of embarrassing

Parents,

Secretly enjoying

The innocent bloom of attraction,

They even offered

To do the washing up,

Before the birth of lust

Staked a claim

On the brunette from the deli

On the corner

And the man with more tattoos

Than hair on his head.

It all makes some kind of sense

In the grand scheme

There is order in chaos

When mid-summer

Oz-party animals and poms

Collide in hopeful celebration

Of another new year.