Balm

Two days of almost quiet :-) 

Lean at the window, this morning, eyes following the swallow's loop. At times it seems to halt mid-flight: an ink outline painted on sky.

On the walk back from the river, midday, hedges are scoured. Wild strawberries, tight and green, reveal signs of ripening. 

This afternoon, on the broad stretch of comforting sofa, settle with a mug of hot tea. The doors are open and everyone wanders by: busy with a barbeque, an impending wedding, calls of children, playful dogs.

The men have tried on their suits. It is time to cook some meat.

The women say: 'Men. Fire and beer and meat!'

There are laughing children on the roof of the playhouse, a flick of flame in the fire pit. There is wine in my glass.

On the drive home, one round of moon looms. Think of: silver paint on velvet card, mother of pearl, carried to term, third trimester.

Lazy morning sun stretches out, having so much room in the sky. Birds, busy and bossy as toddlers, march up and down guttering, pilot warm air.

Who is more surprised, the house martins or I, as I bring my coffee to the open door, find them busy plucking insects from spider webs? Clumsy wood pigeon watches their aerodynamics from the overgrown pine.

I drink coffee, sat at the pallet table, observing beauty in the bleached grey wood.