In silent sun-bliss,
still, but for the merest anime
of a shy breeze, warm and tentative;
as if a lover - distant in time or space -
was wondering at this solitary ogre,
writing head on left hand,
so focused on the shadow of his ball-point,
dancing its way to freeze-frame
at the deep line's end.
Yikes!
A wasp was basking quietly on my forearm,
cleaning antennae peacefully.
her striped insignia
against my clotted freckles.
Closeness to nature! I draw the line -
startling and waving, laughing at irony.
Green-bottles are absent. Oh, there's one!
Tiny flies generate aerial mazes.
High-wires, slung from hedge to apple trees,
the sun points out; but only precursors
of giant webs - we wait their sway.
A broken strand blows out from table-edge -
tracing the zephyr.
.
YOU ARE READING
Keep The Home Fires Burning
PoetryA poetry Collection. Now Lunk has taken to his bed, swearing not to write one more word about C, and muttering 'bloody garden', it behoves (Love that word, don't you?) me (and Anima) to fill out his shoes, with soil and flower seed. So we will be 'e...
