You took me there
On the morning
After I arrived.
I might have stayed in bed
Alone in your still-strange
Warsaw flat.

It’s the largest city Park
In Europe, you told me
I used to run here.

You showed me
The little palaces
And the peacocks.
One male resting across a deep threshold
At the end of a colonnade
Guarded by two hens.

A second peacock
Perched high on a yellow painted Trellis
Outside the café
Alone and looking rather uneasy
But keeping, at least, his tail
Aired and elegant.

February, dank and cold,
Only the odd grandmother and child
Feeding birds and squirrels
And on the way out
One of those squirrels
Red, with ears stiffly furred
Chased me – thinking
I had something for him.