gravity

as I waft the empty bag
infinitesimally tiny grains of flour float out
and drift down into the brass bowl of the weighing scales

ducks

all the other wildlife
skitters or flutters from my path
three ducks sit
unflustered and unperturbed

more snails

on damp mornings
I do a wide slalom along the path
to avoid the meandering snails

street lights

the street lights ahead of me switch off in sequence
fading to a faint orange glow

spring

purple crocuses bask in the warm morning sunshine

(or is that croci?)

cold

I button up tight 
but the icy gust 
inveigles it's way inside my coat

daughters tango

skirts swish to the rhythm
they sashay down the hall

more cat

a black and white sphinx guards the entrance
to Cheltenham road

magpie

soaring up in a bright white sky
wings wide
the shadow of its feathers starkly outlined

chirp

the chirp from outside the window
repeats in time with my breathing 

squirrel

hiding behind the trunk 
but I can see his startled shadow on the fence

Sunday morning lie-in

fingers curled again a chest rising and falling
and the soft ripple of his pulse under the skin