So Very Ordinary? Poem by David Taylor

A bird song carried on still air.
A shaft of light catching dancing motes of dust.
A sunset crimson thrust upon the dusk.

A waft of hyacinth and earthy earth.
A chestnut crackles on the fire.
A fresh baked bread’s aromas spread.

A hushed expectation of nothing new.
A waiting for the homecoming, dinners due.
A promise of a welcome unrestrained.

Coming in from the garden shed
little need be said.
But magic is always present where its always fed.