Belfast, 13th July

Only the debris remains: they sweep
With slow steady strides, relaxed
And easy-going; there is no threat
Or joy or fear or even triumph
In their action.

Battered tins and broken glass move
Southwards, down the Lisburn Road.
Sometimes the sun breaks through,
A light wind lifts empty crisp-bags
And torn sweet-wrappers; they glitter
And suggest a story.

One of the workmen stops, lifts
A discarded beer-can and slowly,
Deliberately and with great exactitude
Empties its content into a well-kept
Hedge; all his attention focused
And concentrated on this act.