There’s a woolly mammoth outside the window
I’d take a picture, but I’m on the phone to you.
It seems a shame, but
Maybe next time I take this train
She’ll still be there under the street lamp.

The August snow is lying thick now
Plenty of work for the gritters and the ploughs.
I hope the drifting
Won’t stop me driving back home
Where the compost festers by the window.

Far in the frozen North
In my empty hall of stone
The summer snow is falling
Sad penguins are calling
We should rebuild Hadrian’s wall
And never cross it at all.