Silence:  flowers bursting
in acres of scarlet –
recalling that ending to Blackadder,
causing a dry catch in the throat –
a slap for your laughter.

A lone trumpet:  more than two minutes –
or less than a moment at the kitchen sink,
when wonder invades,
as through the window, your focus blurs
on a white bird rising, her wings outstretched.

© Caroline Fox Betts 2010

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