sitting pretty

sitting pretty

sitting_pretty

seeing it
through
the front
window,
he took
his cup of
coffee
from the
kitchen out
the front door,
stiff to open
from that
swollen
wood,
the jamb
of old.
a few strides
across the road,
that moment quiet,
walked down the
bank that coffee
in hand
to walk across
the playing field,
dew down
in grass,
feeling that cool
through the
soft toe of
his shoes,
reached the
estuary
edge
murmuring
in light,
and sat
with cup
still full
to savor
full tide,
the flavour
of it
brimming
to the
edge of
bodily
senses,
all his
senses,
finding
that point
of being
alone, where
one looks out
and sees the
rest of
what’s
there.

30 november 2019
riverside

Copyright ©2019 Peter Le Baige.  All Rights Reserved

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