I’ve Been Reading Clive James’s Lines Time when the music climbs along walls Not enclosing the pace of space in halls Or when falls the leaves, petals or wings Of butterflies or even ordinary things. Like the smoke out there. So heavy, thick, From so many fires across the land and I remember all my life it seems the trick Is pretending fires across this dry land Have never been as bad as it is today. And I remember how it was in 1939. When I was seven. Sad to say and pay Attention. Play definitions of last time. Can’t…