a new moon
pinned like a tin badge
silver on black
hangs high over Joe’s house,
early stars seem to wobble
loose sequins
on a cocktail dress,
a recliner, a blanket
it’s a beguilingly warm night,
the garden birds have quietened
save for the restless slap clap
of two belligerent pigeons,
somewhere a hedgehog
is trundling along the gravel boards
navigating to the worm fields,
the evening is easing, the world
my small part of it, exhales,
another day is chalked off
sleep begins to envelope us
tonight, there is no reason
to think about tomorrow.
*
© Graham Sherwood 07/21
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 