a tin roof slopes in
the windless sun
facing north
the size of a
matchbox from here
a lovely place to
lie in autumn
save the danger of
sliding into
the yard in front
we sit together in
our U3A play-reading
group going over
Educating Rita
I feel curiously
like a dried leaf
in an Herbarium, one
fallen from
the compactus
…
but I am the baby of
the group, as always,
and I wish for a beat that I were meditating out there
on the hot
zincalume®, taut as the skin
of a bongo drum,
and ready to blow
away
lovely - and of course, I like the sense of always being ready to be blown away :)
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