slow day

everything slowed down


the french press…presses slowly,

the smell of coffee in steam rises…barely through still air,

i break into small pieces the gathered loaf ends

which i distribute with care

in the back field

for the birds lacking elderberries,

some of the street lamps, across the way

unsure of wether it is night or day

still glowing mid-morning,

carried through the stillness…

you could hear the whir of wheels turning at a distance,

the sky is slowly dripping

off the eaves where it condenses

on the asphalt tiles

before slipping back to earth,

the counter oven announces

the toasting in ticks


until it gets anxious near the end of it’s timing


you could hear a pin drop.