May Evening Poem by john o'connell

may evening.

the sun exits ever so slowly
down behind the heights of blooming beeches
while gym-shoe-running children
are called into supper and to bed.

voices sound from balconies and neighbourly gardens
as blackbirds bid contently the day farewell.
lawnmowers cease their whirring sounds
and clippers, rakes and hoes clank in wooden or plastic sheds.

fragances roam the evening air
invading evey square metre with terrestial bliss;
cigarettes are passed around
and the face next door has ceased once again
being a removed nod and smile.

eventually the curtains are drawn on a happy ending
while tentative talk succeeds in silencing
any riotous upheavels that might occur
in the nights discourses and dreams.