but the sky a distraction
of borrowed things
let down this foolish gloss
over a blistered pill
for the taking
and you know there are
other ways to reach the barber
cobbled lanes of years
eavesdropped overhangs
the sluice through wisteria
a pomegranate whistling fall
the pride of lemons in full show
a half-chewed day’s groan
as the school bell calls
it can grow another day
a sun too good for follicles
a loosed dog smiles beside me
listen through the storm grill
last night rushing away
the sea in the gurgle
a part for what’s left of it
my neighbour’s new baby
has more than me for trim
amidst the knelling orbital joy
James Walton Poetry 
Ah, gorgeous! Reading this is like taking a deep, restorative breath.
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Thanks Rosemary – I might get there, give or take a week or two, or another daydream ….
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Wow! A whole poetic world exists in the going for a haircut. So full of life.
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Hi Colleen, I might even get there one day soon …
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A beautiful poem that makes the ordinary extraordinary. Going for a haircut offer a world of its own.
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Thanks so much Khaya, something just keeps getting in the way …
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