The travelling circus is leaving town
a circle of yellow grass flattened down
no flips and tricks
but slow litter picks
and a clap of pigeons where the high wire ran

Its giant tent is loaded and gone
a blurry sun where the spotlight shone
no flying and tumbling
but a squirrel jumping
from tree to bench and back again

The flags and banners are folded and packed
the trailers hitched, the bleachers stacked
no knockabout clowns
but a dog chasing round
the reversing lights of a council van