Slow day into
slow night
the sun never
really did settle
on a weather pattern
and in the garden
under the hooped row
half open for venting
some cat’s paws
have punctuated
the soil this all
a song of passage
it comes from inside
this very house
percussive
in its settling
too percussive
too insistent
I went out to take
a good look
at the chimney
and startled
the flicker there
it flickered away
the feathers on
its under-wing
as pink
as any sunset
OPTIONAL POETRY 
you kept us waiting to the very last line, thinking ‘where is this going, has it been anywhere?’ – the very last line, you tease
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Ha! I was wondering the same thing myself…
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Nice thought
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