Pushkin And The Gypsy
 
A Gypsy climbed
on Pushkin's statue
and sung and sung
into the frosty air.
Not for money
but for the love of singing.
Wild music echoed
round the Russian square.
"0i, these Gypsies
they know how to sing!"
A man blew on his fingers
and hummed along.
The Gypsy sang and sang
a living opera
a winter Carmen
her ancient coat blown open
in the wind
her scarf  - the only flash
of colour
in the grey sleety day -
pink, red, yellow, green,
flapped
as she swung her hips
an  arctic song soared
from her icy lips
above the chess players
in their threadbare clothes.
The old man held his king aloft
and grey birds clapped their wings,
wheeled and
danced with clouds.