unruly diaphanous 

cirrus clouds drape the sky

like errant wind-tossed 

chiffon scarves intent on masking 

my view of the azure blue backcloth,

we bask on deckchairs like lizards, 

finding no compelling reason for 

further exertion this day and so

immerse ourselves in vastly 

different stories, with erstwhile 

heroes and sundry villains,

as the lunchtime torpor nears

it quietens, everyone seeks

shade and contemplation,

for this hour we keep the 

troubled world at bay, our 

worries lay down their arms

in a fragile truce.

© Graham R Sherwood 06/25