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.
No comments:
Post a Comment