My neighbour just hurled herself into a taxi.
Going on holiday. Somewhere warm, she says.
I walk out the back door on to the patio. Into the rain.
It’s mid-May, and too cold for bees. Apple trees
are in bloom, but timing’s all wrong this year.
That thin skin of vibrant green that comes
at the beginning of spring, well it’s gone now.
We’re into a spread of middle-age green.
The field across the way is bouncing with lambs,
and the bull, it’s his field, just ignores them.
Not bothered, says the bull.
Written for Ragtag Daily Prompt “Bull”. AI Digital Artwork is my own, created using AI Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.
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