SATURDAY 2 20
A flicker of green
as a wren leaps out of the
way, hides in the hedge.
SUNDAY 3 20
A piebald spaniel
flops in the water, scrambles
out, splashes back in.
MONDAY 4 20
On the apex of
the roof, the crow surveys the
trees below, then swoops.
TUESDAY 5 20
Wide-winged, shimmering,
a dragonfly lands on the
path, remains there, still.
WEDNESDAY 6 20
Too impatient to
wait for dark, the round moon shines
in the sunny sky.
THURSDAY 7 20
Bunting appearing
and flags, on walls and fences
along with rainbows.
FRIDAY 8 20
I wake up knowing
that sometime today I’ll hear
Roll Out the Barrel.
Seventeen 