Early morning, squeezed betwixt kerbstone and black tarmac of the road, a solitary poppy. Eight inches tall, scarlet petals damp and creased: impossible to deny it embarked on the walk of shame.
Thursday, 12 May 2022
Bare-headed, seed-blown dandelion stalks, pale-lit against grass verge by early morning sun, appear somewhat ominous; an invasion of listening aliens from another planet.
The metallic, repetitive squawk of the pub's burglar alarm merely reinforces the impression.