Slow

Sunday’s voices:
the distant chainsaw
of fly’s buzz;
the metronome
of grasshopper tick

I lie here
flat on my back
this lumpy grass -
an effortless masseuse.
I hear river frogs
plucking their
loose stringed chorus,
and watch against the sky
the underbellies of insects
balanced at the centre
of mostly transparent wings;
the fragile beat
of flight.

And then, beyond,
a blue whale
skinny-dipping
in those flocculent clouds..

or was it a shape
of nude sky
glimpsed between 
the scanty under-garments 
of playful gods?

...the luxury
of wondering.

14 thoughts on “Slow

  1. love the playfulness of this: the blue whale took me by surprise till you fitted it in; wonderful 🙂 had to look up ‘flocculent’; knew it was a word but had forgotten what it means; seldom seen

    Liked by 1 person

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