quake

no warning
no time for preparation or evacuation
in the bustle of lunch hour the city centre shakes
bringing a cathedral to its knees

like tinnitus

the song of cicadas slices through the warm summer air
a constant ringing in my ears

February clings to me in a hot sweaty embrace

I stand in the kitchen
grating onion
tears pour down my face
stored up from all the times
I never cried

a fly settles on my arm
tickling my bare skin
I shake it off
but in seconds it's back

on the cob

neat rows of sweet yellow corn
like little pockets of sunshine
delicious
and nutritious

freedom

blue checked shirt
denim shorts
greying hair
flying along on a scooter powered by his right leg
it's fun to be forty something

a colony of breeding gannets
nest on a large slab of naked rock
waves crashing
wind circling
fluffy babies huddle close to their mothers
patiently
waiting to
fly

back to school day
I fumble through the morning routine
we get there just on time
a fresh start
I wave goodbye to my little girl
who has grown up
so
much