2.Who notices days.

Who notices days when there are years ahead?
Who notices the fidget of the air or the way
The bunting flicks in the wind or 
how the leaves Of the Lemon tree shake.
There is the ginger cat who we do not feed
& On the verandah there is the avocado,
just opened but brown, 
though it felt just right in the shop
Where it sat next to the olives, the peaches
& the still warm bread.
There is the sound of the frogs in the pond
& if I head down the path there are a thousand wasps
Feasting on the Palm flowers that sit along the fence
Just above my head.
I'm reading a book- lying here in the sun-
That strikes me, actually, as very good-
Perhaps not great-
There are a few things to underline but,
I think, there is time, the day is young,
It can wait.
For where is the hurry when all is slow,
Slow like the heat that opens our pores
& stretches our bodies ,leaving a line of sweat
That drops down from the nape of your neck
Onto the curve your back-
I could and I do spend a long, long time 
Looking at that.

							
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