I have pointed out on many occasions that looking at things from different angles and perspectives can result in a very different view and understanding of any situation.
I’ve also expressed a tendency to look upwards and be positive about things. But this week I was reminded that sometimes the view is better when you look down on things.
As seen in the picture above, the cathedral in Birmingham was rather spotty viewed through the autumn trees at ground level. But I had the chance to go up to the sixth floor of one of the building in the square and it was definitely a better – and clearer – view.
Here, then, is a poem about points of view.
What’s it like? he asks, as she suddenly
strips off her cardigan and morphs the TV guide
into a makeshift fan. It’s winter;
doesn’t it have advantages?
At 5 am, she thrusts the quilt aside; bare feet
and legs jut from the bed and she fights
the pillow, desperate to find a patch of cool.
Does it hurt at all? What do you feel?
She tears her hair back from her face, swearing
she’ll have it all cut off. Does your temperature
actually rise? He stifles thoughts of contagion,
stretches a tentative hand to her brow, and wonders
how to harness all the unexploited natural energy
of menopausal flushes round the world.