lies frozen
on the ground
deadening sound, until trodden;

Little Creatures

Crisp, golden-brown leaves have fallen.
Now, breeze-blown, they scuttle along,
little creatures scattering,
feet pit-pattering,
then hunkering down
in clusters, in corners,
making no sound.


With a great cacophony of sound
a boisterous wind blew
the wind-chimes from the tree;
noisily they clattered
to the ground.

Sounds of Silence

There is no such thing as silence –
the clock ticks, the fridge gurgles,
the traffic passes, the doves coo
and somewhere there is always a fly buzzing!

Sunday Morning

My husband in his workshop.
The distant strains of the Enigma Variations
waft up to me in the study.

Site content copyright of Elizabeth Leaper (Libby).

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