I am sitting in my chair in the
stillness of a Sunday morning,
cloud as a swaddling blanket,
not a whispering movement of air,
and the distant sound of birds is
the only reminder that there is life.

I am sitting and reflecting whole
in this fragment before the squall
of tomorrow’s day and sensing my
breath at a window filled with the
dull light of early morning with no
artist’s colour of sun, just the grey
of a filtered sky and no expectation
about what the faceless pale will offer.

 

27/4/2025