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