Sunday, 8 July 2012

Egg Timer

The phone warbles like a pigeon.
The rain on the tarry roof heats
up like olive oil in a steel pan.

By turns, we catch our breath
and the smell of pine from these
cabin walls settle the thoughts

as they come spilling down
like white grains of sand
in the constricted bulb
of an egg timer.

2 comments:

  1. Hey Jonathan
    Is this a totally imagined account? or based on some visit to the Carolina pine barrens? Where the roofs steam off the rain almost immediately, and the smell of pine is almost intoxicating - dizzying.

    Nicely done.

    Regards,
    B.R.

    Your captchas are murder!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Those pesky captchas, they get everywhere.

      Thanks for the nice words. Actually, the venue was my own humble back garden in the wilds of southern England.

      Good to hear from you again.

      Delete

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