How I escaped the madness of the US election

BONFIRE NIGHT Beech trees crisp and colour their ochres and reds. We waded the summer countryside, globally warmed To the cockles of our mud pies in the shelter of our umbrellas, And celebrated when the cloud cover did not bring rain On Bonfire Night. The children on their father’s shoulders, The young, the middle-aged and the crumbling, Gathered at the flaming edge of the fire-stack To witness airborne explosions that glittered with the idea There is something beyond ourselves, and magic exists, Even if it is only man-made and momentary. I have life-rafts When the day is bleakest: a hot bath and hair wash, A poached egg on buttered toast with a mug of tea, A wood burner and warm dogs, and the advent of spring.