Orange orb in silent splendour
Doffs its hat to dying day
Beyond the blackening hills,
While jittery swallows,
Trės bavardes,
Observing all from wires hung high above the house,
Spot speckled blackbirds’ young,
Lumbering awkwardly amongst the shadows,
Expectantly to seize a wandering worm,
And orange blossom heaves its heavenly scent
From some internal reservoir
To entrance us.
Solemn hollyhocks stand scarlet sentinel
Beside the gate
While woodpeckers cease their long, industrious knocking.
Briefly a bat above us dances in the gloom
And far below lone fox barks hollow
To serenade the night watch
Of the burgeoning moon,
And all is well.
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Trės bavardes – very talkative
Somewhere Else Writers Group 