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.
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