after Between Walls by William Carlos Williams

The polythene that hauntingly wail-screeched 
in the winter stormwind has been torn down.

No more shards of shattered beer bottles filter or flitter 
the daylight across the distressed concrete in spring. 
For now, grey remains grey.

Summer moths flourish-flounce in stale air, 
before flying off into lemon-sherbet sun.

Leaf litter, kindling dry, the colour of autumn fire 
has been swept up and soaked to stop 
the spread of flame.

Soon, in this periphery of the living, a new 
maternity ward will announce itself through cries 
and tears and the whirring melodies 
of diagnostic instruments.

Please see the image below for the original poem.