The sarcasm of birds:
two crows bickering on the empty bird table.
The disappointment of biscuits:
too sweet and crumbly for middle-age.
The distraction of other things:
screens flickering, new music demanding attention.
The disintegration of light:
darkness reflected in a discoloured mirror.
The enigma of memory:
what I remember, what I choose to forget.
The destruction of history:
ancient monuments deliberately reduced to dust.
The seduction of the unknown
rather than what we should care for and love.
The impossibility of calm
and quiet and order, of making a perfect home.
The absence of speech:
words unrecognisable, books left out in the rain.
The elusiveness of meaning:
playful disjunction is not the same as synchronicity.
The sarcasm of birds,
their caws and cries waking me up too soon.
The drawn-out day:
silences, pauses, worry and dismay.
The fickleness of language,
refusing to mean what I want to say.