The morning was sandy brown, and the breeze muttered beneath the clouds before they broke, tattered, and the sun scattered golden butter into flower cups. Below, among the willows, four ducks landed to graze, and the coypu family played in the long grass by the stream. A whip snake startled among the vine rows, startling.
The day meandered, weeding and pruning back a rose reverted to wild. So much to release from beneath the weight of goose grass, bay and bramble, delicate things struggling for breath and a sight of the sun. Among the dead stalks of winter jasmine, I disturbed a robin’s nest, blackbirds ran beneath the bushes.
Evening, the blue sky streaked with purple and pink, and as the birds prepare to roost, the bank across the way poured out a rabbit colony. Evenings, nothing moves on this lane, only rabbits.
In the balance
between light and dark
between seeing and hearing
the air throbs and rustles
from dead leaves.