monday letterboxes

inverse proportions:

the larger the house

the smaller the letterbox

togetherness

the only sound in the room

is the clicking of two computer trackpads

café

two middle aged men in the M&S café

simultaneously fidget with their cups and watch for their wives

More Rain

an abrupt downpour reverberates ominously on the roof light

like an executioner's drumroll

persistant prickles

the tree is a weird genetically-modified prickle-less holly

but at it's roots new shoots are determined to revert

to their former glory

snow

huge wet flakes drift down

and melt into the icy puddles

cat

in the window a black cat stretches and arches it's back

the fur stands out in exaggerated black spikes

Rainbow

no washed-out fading archway this morning

the rain was torrential, the sun pierced brilliantly

the rainbow appeared radiant and triumphal

Zion arts

girl with a smile and a blue butterfly dress

plays guitar and sings

but mainly for the man smiling at her

from the bus window

outside the student union building

the 'girl next door'

with silver waves of hair beneath her wooly hat

and a winning smile

presses goodies on random passing strangers

Bell

I press the ordinary anonymous bell

there is no 'ding dong' nor a buzzer

nor even a friendly chime

instead a saxophone riff sounds within.

I can't resist a second press

close shave

a man in a chunky cream cardigan steps back in alarm

the bus cuts a little too close as it turns the corner