A Whisper of Writers

 A little poem from a quiet moment with my writer's group, three years or so ago....

AT WRITERS GROUP

When the Magpies and

squabbling Rosellas

have gone,

for now

The creak and scratch

of pen and paper

is all the sound

I hear

But listen – just then

the fireplace creaked

A distant dinosaur

growls its diesel roar

Small feathered bells tumble

through shadowed leaves

A page turns

A writer sighs

Outside a crow

calls the falling sun

The fridge

hums back to life