A sky as grey as a neglected net curtain, no wind to stir it.
Sat on the front steps, a bone coloured bowl balanced on a knee: yesterday's stew. Pewter spoon and extra pepper.
Bird shapes on branches gather, clatter. Up on the lawn, the old wood cart is mis-parked, and chairs askew, and teapots full of rainwater line up on the pallet table.
Dew beads linger on grass.
Cat, rapt by this proximity of stew, creaks over, sits on the drive. Sparkle in her age-cloudy eyes.
The spoon makes a pretty sound in the round bowl, chasing the last burst of tomato. One aromatic pepper dot decorates licked teeth.


  1. What a Wonderlandish party! I shall imagine myself there in my mad hat.


Post a Comment

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here:

Popular posts from this blog

Unusual Koalas

The Week Of Clarke And Covid

Worth Every Ache