Wednesday, 1 December 2021

 A Not So Still Life

What a strange tableau,

a still life 



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?



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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