Seed fluff floats from the willow herb,
wafts on the hot afternoon.
An orange butterfly flits
over the ripening thicket of bramble.
A rabbit nibbles and lollops on.
Interrupting the fertile quiet
a fat pigeon’s wing feathers flap
as it alights on the birch.
It sounds like a belly flop
into the deep pond.
Minding its own business,
round the corner softly trots a fox,
unselfconscious till it sees me
half-dozing on a bench in shade.
Speakingly, it halts,
engages my eye and vanishes
as if it had never been.