High Noon -
weeds returning my gaze
unblinking

Bells tolling

and frogs croaking -

Sunday morning

Through the open window

to the flower vase and back -

a butterfly

Smiling

from beneath the bird shit -

the buddha

After the funeral

with granddad's encyclopedia

to the charity shop

She comes down the stairs

and goes back up right away-

new shoes

And time and again

this one little bird

interrupts me