Just Another Sunday...
The first day of spring;
or so it seemed. An afternoon’s
hard digging behind me, I glance up –
two lapwings splice a sea
of lapis lazuli.
Square wings flap fast –
‘peewit’ they call, each to each,
as, unashamedly, they flirt
as they flit as they fly – now
On the horizon, a kestrel
trawls a mackerel sky;
nothing more I could want –
right now, but right this moment.
Above the green-sand ridge,
a lazy sun, only then thinks about
going down, and I feel the short,
sharp, slap on my butt...drink in
that first sweet breath, again.
A day-weary moon, nuzzles
at my shoulder...all the way
to the backdoor – setting
far too soon.
Inside, a glass of white wine,
freshly poured; on the settee –
an open book, and a votive,
newly lit, on the mantelpiece.
All between us, understood;
by a candle, and the light it shed.
For here, we are.