The next few days will be tricky.

The next few days will be tricky.

It is everywhere

In all things,

Near or far.

The swoop of the Red Kite

The sublime speed

The flurry of feathers

The plummet to the ground

Caught before it ever really fell.

The slurry of shingle

Gently rolls the sea

In an endlessly reciprocal

Romance

With the warm white sand,

The swoosh of their kiss,

Everlasting.

There is a whisper

In everything

Never quite distinct

Barely understood

A wonder of distraction.

The unworked brain

Demands it

Even on a lazy day.

Citronella candles

Keeping the insects at bay

The whoosh of an old ceiling fan

The rattle of a delivery truck

With a hole in the exhaust.

Motor Cycles

Easy riders with long-flowing hair

Jetliners punching holes

In the cold thin air

Conversational music

Drifting over

From the beer garden.

There is always the clamour

Of morning

The hushed tones of night

The cries of a lone Cicada

Too late for its mate

The shrill skirl

Of a rusted iron gate

Even in silence

There is always a whisper.