The sky’s overcast. The warm wind creeps under your shirt.
A spotted cat walks slowly towards the dusk.
Dusk moves slowly towards the spotted cat.
A neighbour’s wife is taking clothes from the line.
I don’t see her, I only see the clothes vanishing
one by one. I see the white lilac.
Narcissi and carnations. And lights
shining far away on the other side of the river. One recorder.
One radio. One reed warbler. And many,
many nightingales.
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