Opposites are one

Heraclitus tells us the best of times

the worst of times are one time and the same

would tell that is

if not long dead

he would have had

a thing or to say

on the subject of this here

river come to that

I’m not quite sure

if I were Heraclitus

what it would take to get me up

the mornings of these days

the best of days

the worst of days

and all of them like Sunday

except Sunday

which is without end

suppose I’d be after

the most perfectly adequate

the unremarkablest of times

the non-worst non-best of

mustn’t grumble of

sit quietly on the riverbank

doing nothing sort of times

my love let us remain

six feet apart in a garden

bathing in the birdsong

the silence of the fog-horns

and do nothing like the gods

but gentle argument, taking care

to see no day is better and no worse

than any other

Written by JAMES MCKAY

Artwork by ALEX SURTEES