for the third evening in a row
the fridge temperature light glows red

with a gasp
frantically checking hands
- beetroot on the tea towel

World Cup fever
- realising the supermarket will be quiet
when England are playing

too hot to get up -
a neighbour practises scales
on a flute

along the road home
trimmed overhanging trees
roar at the setting sun

lying down on the hotel bed -
a childhood memory of joining the dots
of a stippled ceiling

first day of the holiday -
a pleasant melody of beeps
at the supermarket checkout

solstice stroll -
from a clarinet
the last bars of Summertime

into the shade -
following silver footprints
in long grass

while a spider waits
over a corner
of dull cloud

a fluttering of starlings
gulp sky
to the glugging

of the sink
swilling down grounds
of cold morning coffee

saturday morning lie in
cut short
by a lawn mower

at the end of winter
afternoon sun
and the warmth of dish water

early morning
ice scrapers
slowly opening my eyes

end of shift –
half moon fades
in morning sun

the shortcut
across the football pitch
casts a shadow
deep midfield

in the final waves
staff desperately paddle
their mops to closing time

while navigating a torrent
of xmas shoppers
a vacuum cleaner sounds like a siren

on the way to the cobblers
treading carefully
over frosted leaves

after dusk
windows glow
a shade of sky

back from the seaside
I hear seagulls
in the fridge hum