The birds are quiet
buds form on empty trees
A sign saying ‘land acquired’
someone has spray painted over land
An empty pot of Haagan Das impaled on railings
a safety pin on the floor
The distinct sound of Long Tailed Tits
a troop of them flickering through hedges, chattering, tiny fluffed up bodies.
Birds rush to shelter from oncoming night.
Dusk; The clinging of light, colours soften, tones change
it all moves into shadow.