Drifting

It's ten to three,
And it still surprises me how beautiful life can be.
Sitting here, with nothing to fear,
Alone, but never felt less lonely.

The glowing warmth of the sun,
And the sharp chill of the wind,
Wage war of the elements upon
My goose-pimpled skin.

The seconds tick by on the old worn-out clock,
And I miss every one, counting down to that knock.
The house shifts in its sleep; creaks and groans,
And I'm sure, it has a life of its own.

Laying down my pen, closing my eyes,
I listen to the sounds of the world around me.

The slow, timeless breath of the wind,
Charging unstopable through the fragile life below.

The unwanted interuption of a roaring engine,
An aeroplane making its way steadily onward,
Hidden by rolling clouds drifting across the sky.

The call of an unknown bird,
Warning its rivals; or greeting its mate, I wonder.