One Early Hanseatic Morning

One early Hanseatic morning
in Bismarck's town
Walking Othmarschen's Prussian streets,
my sub-continental snake-tuned eye
is startled by a sudden rustling
in the crumpled autumn yellow
lying at maple's feet.

It is only a raven scrounging for food,
pecking at German abundance
lying on empty roads,
now bejewelled with russet apples
glowing in gutter grates,
on glistening streets,
wet with last night's rain.

Further down Kalckreuth way,
a patient Teutonic Benz
at computer red and amber,
waits alone for green,
then peels down the road
as Lutheran bells proclaim
another Sabbath morning.