Bogbrush

office desk a sunbeam tracks across the clock ripening wheat listening to skylarks and airliners rainbow's arc the wilted garden perks up caught in the glasses hinge a grey hair in the silence of the coffee shop tapping smartphones sunset colours not worried about wet grass the merlin disappears in a puff of pigeon wailing alarms in the car park red faced chefs riding school horse the carrot vanishes from my hand from the lounger sunbathing dragonflies on jasmine bathroom songs outside, the frog chorus tonight's forecast meteorite showers and thick cloud gathering on the village green one, two, tai chi off to work the fox asleep

Face down I lie, I'm toast