Early Saturday morning

Early Saturday morning. Rain gently patters against the panes and the brick, leaving marigolds clustered with jewels. Drainpipes gush soothingly. Pink geraniums gently nod in the breeze. Silence: no cars, no children, no football, no neighbours TV. Two fat glossy pigeons with gleaming neck feathers sit amid ivy on the fence outside the backdoor: Mr and Mrs, facing each other. A squirrel, beady eyed and lithe, races nimbly, importantly, to and fro. Faint birdsong spirals from a lustrous blackbird in a far chestnut tree. The garden grows fatly. The clock ticks. Peace.