Some days I am comforted by quietly despairing

mind tired summer grimness of a raining northern town

sploshings on the tarmac of industrial estates

rounding corner newsagents in redbrick terrace streets

staying up ‘til two a.m. unable to feel somnolence

and waking up at six a.m. to judders of the juggernauts

that terrorise the fragile bridge outside my double glaze

Some days I am comforted by quietly despairing

as the thudding heavy weather pulls curtains on my eyes

since despairing means there’s hope in me

you can’t be truly desperate without clinging to hope

and hope suggests a better that I really ought to know

and oughting to know better suggests people can improve