a golden dawn sky

fades to grey and birds hush their

calls in reverence

abandoned snail shells

a bird’s skull long-beaked picked-white

one single flower

a pair of yellow shoes

walking a long twisty road

how lightly I tread

I drink my tea cold

not that I like it that way

always distraction

a virtual week

clamour of fractious voices

exchange of a smile

a circle going

round, and round, my phone updates

but not so my head

those quiet moments

while the house still sleeps are those

I claim for my own

twilight abstraction

pink blooms by a garden chair

the blurring of light

yoga in the park

fronds of blossom like pink clouds

a tree surgeon works

joyful twittering

so many birds enjoying

our containment