Early Morning with BB

We startle unseen pigeons
that ask who? Who?
from their camouflage
then wince at the
slap clap flap
of their ungainly launch
clattering through broad leaves.


Through the old village
quiet still, just
the smell of fresh toast
and the whistle of a kettle,
Damp moss steams
on the old cemetery wall
BB points a finger, frowns and says oooff!.


On the quieter path
the lake breeze exhales
to make the teasels bristle
leaning in unison
to whistle and hum
brown heads tilted
in a gospel choir rhythm.





© Graham Sherwood 06/2015