Thursday 16 April 2009

warm solitude

There is little
more beautiful
than sitting
sheltered
from an
oncoming storm,
with the light of day
dimmed
to an early evening.
And the cool
of a summer breeze
easing the moisture
out of a hot day.
And me sitting at my table.
Writing.

There is nothing better.
Save,
perhaps,
the cry of a seagull
ripping the air apart.