SIESTA

Posted by Admin on Sunday, 24th February 2008, 00:00

Deck-chair low-notched, now lunch-full I lie,
gazing while ’plane trails encircle the sky –
turquoise, empyrean, innocent void –
rapture ineffable, bliss unalloyed!
Nearby the sound of a neighbour with spade,
whirr, rattle, whirr, goes a lawnmower’s blade.
Zephyrs waft, chlorophyll-clean, to my nose,
smell of chopped grass, and the scent of a rose.
Birds sing, and butterflies airily dance –
nothing disturbs me: I live in a trance.
Footsteps approach me, and, drowsing, I think,
comes here a houri with long, cooling, drink?
No, it’s my wife! All my fancies retreat,
“Half the lawn left – you get cracking, my sweet!”

T. C. Hudson

© T. C. Hudson.

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