My Diary: Making Promises Inside A Tree Many Feet Above The Ground

June got up songbird early to hang the washing on the line‭ ‬-‭ ‬in the distance another lady was doing likewise with what looked like centurions from a Marian legion of the Late Republic.‭ ‬I looked up to write an invisible poem which started with an angel in sunlight and ended with an eagle of the heart escaping‭ ‬-‭ ‬I vowed to never leave cage door open again and then resurrected my alternative self:‭ ‬he/I danced an aboriginal ceremonial dance to the passing of a friend.‭ ‬That evening I stood outside a deserted house and pretended I could see conversation uttered decades before rise like smoke.‭ ‬On the walk home I lit up a pen and circled sad thoughts floating above a row of laughing heads that I had strung like beads around a multistorey neck‭ ‬-‭ ‬June got the clothes off the line‭ (‬they were dry‭)‬.

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