This morning,
standing still with the view -
beads of light filled rain
rest beneath the balcony rail,
three Blue Tits flit about the grating,
moving between my blinks.
The canal is a quivering mirror for the sun, sky and poplars -
briefly broken by a duck’s blinding bow wave.
From the towpath, a blur of a dog, fast
onto the grass, racing - chases a squirrel up a tree.
The dog now caught in the tree’s gravity
runs endlessly around the trunk, tail wagging,
deaf to his owner’s whistles and calls.
Happy running circles in the sunshine.