Postcard Home

~

magpies rummage through 

sodden leaf detritus blown 

into the gutters by last night’s 

storm, nudging and squabbling 

like old women at a jumble sale, 

selective, discerning, unhurried, 

some good stuff is still available 

although they angrily chatter 

about the price being asked,

~

it’s been wet again today, the sky

alternating pale blue to dark grey 

with the swirling panache of 

a magician’s cape,

~

I glumly peer through the window

like a beach goer having been

driven off the sands and forced 

back inside an unwelcoming B&B, 

left to wonder how to salvage an 

already impossible day,

~

I decide to go in search of words

half expecting them to play an

irritating hide-and-seek, with me 

being a curt unwilling participant,

~

from my cold desk I feel I need 

music and find Charles Trenet’s 

classic ‘La Mer’ on a favourite 

old holiday playlist,

~

the words can remain hidden

for now, as I sail off Cannes

under a billowing spinnaker 

with my eyes closed, thoughts 

of a washout Wednesday fast

disappearing over the horizon as 

the magpies transform to seagulls

*

© Graham R Sherwood 06/26