Small stones

Some small moments of mindfulness from the past week:

She boards the bus/in hat and stockinged feet/I wonder at how poised she seems/when I in just a vest and shorts/still can’t stand the heat

Sunlight cuts through trees/making irridescent leaves/An unusual purple flower flutters in the early evening breeze/its in moments like these/I breathe

You sleep deeply/when we’re outside/tiny fingers holding tight/to daytime dreams/Your feet curl and you sigh/your toenails need cutting

She talks quietly, with authority/she seems to be the boss/the other three hold heads low, humbled/they all look equally lost

A smashed watermelon/Its scarlet flesh a much needed splash of colour/to this grey street/I stop and stare at the pigeons eating/It’s unusually quiet for this time of day/I feel like I have intruded on a secret afternoon feast

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