11:40. Sunday.

The October light is grey,

it spills through the attic window.

Downstairs I can hear the clatter

of the coffee pot being started.

I await  the aroma to drift upstairs.

The day seems still,

apart from the sound of a plane

flying through the sky.

I wonder where it is going,

where it is taking people to.

All sounds seem sharp and like crystal  today.

The church bell across the park.

Birds singing.

Images too,

the neon lights of our city last night.

Our drive home from town

looking at the spires of Churches piercing the sky.

For some reason all of these sights,

these sounds,

reassure me-

like being wrapped in a  blanket of love.

Perhaps today is a day for walking along the river.

Kick some leaves.

11:50 now.

Sunday.