Commonword Blogs

A swallow plays with it’s shadow, reflecting in the river’s afternoon haze.

The popping of tennis balls’ on a soft clay court.

A tannoy from the school, rises over rooftops, and into backyards
where children play.

An old man stubbles, his white steel cane, scrapes and jolts along the river’s
stony path.

Children squat by the water; dad helps them to cast their reels
Farmers’ burn their grass, the heavy smoke smart’s my eyes.

To sit, be still

I think of your reassuring smile, your raucous laughter, your attentive ear

I want to go home.