While home births these days are the preserve of a certain sort of independent mother they used to be the norm before the NHS. Which brings me to....
I’m roaming my northern native place,
like a Hindu going back to his village.
I always walk along that streetbathing in the early memories,
when all the doors were dark stained,
gateways to the secrets of the old town.
This time, the door to number twelve
is yellow, a shocking mustard among the
still dull portals. For brightness, they blindly
chose that fevered, jaundiced hue; but my
epitaph is elsewhere, so should I really care
about the colour of my birthplace door?
The Stuart Agenda by Alan Calder at willowmoonpublishing.com, Barnes and Noble and amazon.co.uk