For Christmas, she gave him the city
Wrapped in a tinsel of fairy-lights
Bank baubles twinkling at the wharf
The Shard above as a guiding star
In a firmament of planes and satellites.
Pigeons can be puff-chested angels for today
As the river rolls its slow deep carol
Pumping a hundred hydraulic hearts
Energy flows beneath the pavement-skin
In tunnels tangled with candy-twist cable.
Music is in the bow of every crane
Tube tracks click out the Morse-code beat
A rhythm of barges along the canals
In the noise of streets, the quiet of empty churches
Just for him the city sings its joy.
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