16.10.2025

And yet

Another haphazardly made 

Wound is healing, 

Flesh, knitting to flesh

And this

Late October day is one of

Gently bright skies,  

Puff dappled white, and

Temperate air.

My friends, the pigeons,

Have deserted their 

Usual rooftop roost, and I 

Imagine, they've gone out-

Shopping for bits of dropped food on the decks

Of all the white sailboats, half-

Asleep in the bay.

The orange tabby cats, yowing below

Will have to prey 

Elsewhere, their 

Lunchfare, today.