Sun through blinds


Empty visitor’s room awaits

no fretting wives or children yet arrived

dust dancing in the fractured light.

the sway and swing on rising heat.

the striations of sun and shade

running on from narrow to wide.


Wavering then

a jink left to right

in the gentle air

the updraft of heat.   

in silent retreat


The staccato tap of swinging stays

against the sill and the buzz of bees  

heard out beyond the barred confines  

no prison beyond half open blinds.


© Dave Kavanagh

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