A Not So Still Life
What a strange tableau,
a still life
still
living
in a dream.
The birds flew over
and looked down on it,
but there was no place for them
to hang out,
to roost,
to dream.
So they didn’t care about the dust motes
escaping into the sunlight
floating like fairy dust
getting themselves organised
to follow their dream.
Did they escape
from the jar?
Perhaps.
Though
the bull is wondering
if they were ever inside
and the birds don’t care as usual,
hardly notice her dog emerging
from the mist to inspect them.
Unmistakably her dog
just more amorphous than usual.
It doesn’t look inclined to chase the motes
or stick it’s head inside the loop they’re making.
But the birds don’t care as usual.
a still life
still
living
in a dream.
The birds flew over
and looked down on it,
but there was no place for them
to hang out,
to roost,
to dream.
So they didn’t care about the dust motes
escaping into the sunlight
floating like fairy dust
getting themselves organised
to follow their dream.
Did they escape
from the jar?
Perhaps.
Though
the bull is wondering
if they were ever inside
and the birds don’t care as usual,
hardly notice her dog emerging
from the mist to inspect them.
Unmistakably her dog
just more amorphous than usual.
It doesn’t look inclined to chase the motes
or stick it’s head inside the loop they’re making.
But the birds don’t care as usual.
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