It's Still Life

9 July (Home Again)

moss is growing on the roof,
my fingers are stained
with the scent of berries,
and the laundry is drying
outside in the rain.

7 July (Traffic on the M4)

The road is wet
but still warm to the core,
a long-haul driver sits
drowsy, tyres humming.
The day strums and
the night’s dream-haunted,
a vagrant’s song is in his head.
And the road stretches long
like a trough.

6 July at Bath (an American Sentence: 17 syllables)

Admission paid, sitting on the grass, watching cygnets tread the Avon.

5 July (At The Cotswolds Distillery)

Copper barrels filled
with fresh herbs and angels,
and after a week,
it’s gin.
Smooth and sly as a thief.

4 July (Arlington Row in Bibury)

And there’s a trout,
the colour of river stones,
and we stand on the footbridge,
pointing with our pointy fingers,
Look there, a trout, we say,
and rain begins to fall
as a hawk watches us and all else
from an overweighted branch.

Artwork is created using Midjourney. Photo of Bibury’s Arlington Row was taken on my iPhone. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.