Sunday – in the garden

The sunlight is soft, cuddling my feet with it’s gentle touch

The swallows are wheeling high in the endless sky,

A pernicious breeze is herding the clouds, snapping at their heels as they waft through an azure field of dreams

The smell of freshly hewn grass fills my nostrils

Silence in my head

My heart is still

Waiting,

Waiting for what?

The knock of reality?

The reality of committment, responsibility, work, the infinite “to-do list”

A most un-welcome interloper in my perfect world!

The wind’s changing now, whipping the tree tops, bending the branches to its will

The sky is dark, angry,

The white whisps a mish-mash of charcoal menace,

There’s a storm coming.