gallus cockerel

plumage golden brown, strutting

‘midst a flock of geese

a proud cockerel

bemused by the nonchalance

of the large white geese

physicality

the new order of six, but

still we should not sing

waves roar up a beach

a momentary silence

rushing of shingle

an artist, head down

pulling paint across a page

finding first the tone

two clocks are ticking

half of a second apart

in parallel time

a spring-time party

hail, snow and sleet and rain all

dancing in the sun

cold morning air

from the valley below rise

little clouds of steam

dogs making play-bows

in the light of a street lamp

their men stop to talk

gentle rain, grey skies

a cat cleans the night’s remains

from extended claws