I sit in the shade at the back of this house,
in the coolness of the long yard,
taking the air where large clay pots
line up against the high back wall,
…
nasturtiums in all their summer
colours sprawl, spilling out enticingly,
from moss lipped earthen-ware rims,
and I watch the bees fly in and out
…
of the outstretched and gaping petals,
the single point of the stigma,
and the anthers waiting to be touched
lightly stroked, by bees hairy backs.
…
This business of observation,
is its own kind of meditation,
intrusions come and go,
and are left to their own devices.
…
A sparrow sits chirruping angrily,
looking down from the pear tree
that overhangs at a crazy angle,
on the calmness of the yard below.
…
In the outhouse, the washing machine
