TUESDAY 21
The bus replicates
last month’s journey, even down
to missing a stop.
WEDNESDAY 22
The compost damp in
the coconut pot, a thread
that might be a shoot.
THURSDAY 23
In front of me a
snakeskin printed scarf in a
complicated braid.
FRIDAY 24
A woman in town
saying that she used to be
big on Gogglebox.
SATURDAY 25
A heavy crow struts
among dragged and ragged sheep
lying with grown lambs.
SUNDAY 26
The two months of the
longest days. The sun still flares
after nine o’clock.
MONDAY 27
Poppies, columbine,
lavender blowing on a
bank, cars rush behind.
Seventeen 