morning wood

Even the garden is quiet; 

chattering swallows fallen to reverie.

Crossing the rain-soaked grass

Black rook stalks.

Etude in grey

And deep within the silent house

 a floorboard creeks, a muffled snore, 

sullen Sunday morning, wreathed in grey,

waits for sun to break the day.


‘Tis strangely quiet today, wagtail swaggers across the wet lawn stabbing the grass. More boldly, the shining black rook struts gallusly, his bright eye observing the empty food bowls. Overhead kestrel hovers against the foreboding sky, as small birds courie in the shelter hedge. Clouds cling to the hills and mountains as the weak sun struggles to penetrate the rain-plump clouds.

Gradually the house stirs, radios come alive, mobiles buzz.  Above the trees, a high pitched “cree” four kestrels fly, parents teaching young. A quiet country Sunday morn…

Thanks for dropping by, hope you enjoy a quiet Sunday too