To And Fro

Just before work I am melted to the car seat and watching magpies covet shine.
Handsome, indolent heat makes everything such languid effort.
Minds are wrestled from drift, only briefly, only for the necessary part of a task.
The rest is all dissipation.
After work, pull car and steamy skin into a random moorland car park, sit; door open, coffee cold; face to face with a lowing sun.
I am fixed in the seat, it seems, much as a chrysalis fixes to a stem: until bare feet wake up, press over the short-stemmed grass.


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