Shutters swat
Back and forth
Shadows remain
As sharp as anywhere
A crooked frieze
Plaster intact if
A little shabby
Unnamed birds
Stab across the gap
Between the palm
Leaves and pastel
Walls. Geckos crawl
Patter feet
Too fast
To comprehend
Sunday afternoon
Crouches, bent but
Unsprung, torque
In the making
In the turning
Petals to the sun
Marvelous poem Stu
ReplyDeleteGood morning, Mrs Jones - how's your bird's lumbago?
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ReplyDelete'torque in the making' - great line - again!
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