Framed by upright posts, the washing swings from the backyard line, waving semaphore messages in the breeze.  Today my houseguest advertises underwear and coloured t-shirts to passing foot traffic.  Staccato messages berate the trees: red, white, grey.  The flat green patch of grass, drying out from the previous day’s downpour.  The humidity not yet up, though the breeze is.  The succulents are shaded by the flapping white essence of business shirt.  The concrete trough will never be moved from under the eaves to the garage.  Leaves rustle.
I sit under the back awning and observe this not so still life.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s