Just a thought

A bulging half-moon
in a wintry blue sky
above the red-bricked houses
just gone midday

a stillness broken
only by the intersecting
flights of birds
and a silence broken
only by their small-talk
their melodious chitchat

occasionally a cooing
pigeon announces
its location rather brashly
blurting out
its amorous intentions
above the familiar
sonic texture :
no breeding

a light breeze
gently rustles the dense
green branches
of the only conifer
I can see
from my window :
somebody has to
fly the flag

the other trees
stand open-armed
naked and motionless
not a care in the world :
is this not
perfect peace ?

It would be
I muse
if you were here
with me
but you’re not
so it’s not—
not quite

John Lyons

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