Small lions bite the air

Those days
when the mundane recedes –
less a hum; more a punctuation
– traffic calmed and drumming
train, a pleasant Sunday service

Strimmer strums reassurance
of domestic husbandry
(and intermittent irritation..)

Birds come
and in the hollow of
the bluebells
the gentle splashing
in the bath delights

Small lions, fended
sulk and slink
and bite the air

Laundry lines chink chink
and small talk is shared
over low fences

a house or two along,
a sudden tensing:
“Mummy! Bee!”

and a smile
the width of a street can be
imagined to break out

And the sun shines warmly
welcome rays
and the breeze whips,
as though to blow the debris
clean away, through bamboo
and tinkling chimes

from the mighty weight;
the global fates consigned,
for just a little while, to wait.

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