Sunday 18 March 2018

Sunday Afternoon




An afternoon zephyr provides just enough
relief from the noon’s heat.
The hammock’s oscillation gently supporting
the whisper of the leaves conversation.
The stillness of the space causing time to halt,
the quietude becoming its own inertia, allowing eternity
room to express its presence.
Not asleep, but not awake, my thoughts idly
meander through the crevices of my mind
like unsupervised rivulets leisurely exploring
undiscovered territories.
The hiatus of body and discontinuity of mind
indistinguishable from each other, the vacuum
extending to the edges of reality.


The bang of back-fire startles the tranquility of the interval’s serenity,
causing the crows to caw and cry in kinned pandemonium;
Their unplanned escape successful nonetheless.
The raucous cacophony of kookaburras in the grey gums
laughing at the dissolution of our reverie.
Dogs bark, offended by the interruption to their siestas,
turning their complaints into a contest to see
who rules the neighbourhood.
A door slams somewhere, as if feeling the need
to join the protest against the rude disturbance,
and getting the last word in,
places a punctuation point on the whole affair.


Time to fire up the barbeque.


MDC
March 2018

No comments:

Post a Comment