Man with nearly new car eyes
up younger model
Then Walk On
Dad drops son off at station in plenty of time for the 9.22.
Seagulls in a line across a freshly ploughed field,
the distant sound of a tractor.
Contrast the meadow,
full with clumps of clover,
long swaying grasses,
all spotted through with daisies and dandelions,
and clouds of playful butterflies,
sat beside the regimented field of corn.
Upright,
in uniform rows,
all standing to attention,
awaiting their next order!
A pigeon sits on the telephone wires.
The newly laid road surface,
damp from a recent shower,
reflects the sky.
Hedgerows full with summer bounty for the birds to plunder.
A pheasant and a Magpie have a chat and plan their next move,
as I pull out yet another stone from my shoe!
...then walk on.
I've 50 Minutes Left On My Parking Ticket
Man stood outside 'Vape Shop' smoking a cigarette.
Half a takeaway covers the pavement.
A slug takes a look.
Couple sat outside a cafe communicating via their mobiles.
Homeless man tidys the bench that is his home as an over powering waft of perfume hits me from a passerby.
Begger in subway says good morning.
What he means is 'do you have any change?'
"Good morning" I reply.
What I mean is... 'no'.
I walk on.
The apple core which lyes in the gutter will never bare fruit.
CCTV cameras track a middle aged man,
big fluffy hair,
'hippy trousers' and round glasses.
...looks suspicious!
Jogger crosses in front of me,
cuts me up,
but apologises - it's all cool!
The city's carparks still have spaces for all the cars passing by me.
The balconies on a new block of flats enjoy the view,
of the cars!
The noise,
the rumble of the air conditioning units,
...it all seems endless!
Briefly the noise abates.
I've 50 minutes left on my parking ticket.
The Dog and I Walk Home
The sound of the birds on the breeze is interrupted by the buzz of a helicopter.
Like an angry bee it crosses the sky.
Shadows hide as clouds,
like cotton wool balls
cross the sun.
I drift away.
The clap of a pigeons wings brings me round.
A pheasant runs from my presence.
The bridle path is almost lost under the long swaying grasses.
The kissing gate is barely visible,
the 'Purple Fox Gloves',
the 'Dog Rose',
and the ubiquitous 'Nettle' abound.
Crows argue in a tree as the orchard silently prepares its crop.
The gate shuts with a 'clang' behind us.
A glider and a buzzard both hang silently in the sky,
seemingly nothing holding them both there,
suspended in magical spender.
The dog and I walk home.
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