Monday

As the pink dusk settles
And the suburbs type out their commas

A heron flies low,
It’s quick shadow
A split second of doom
Before the majesty grips,

A car’s wheels spin and whine
Like midnight foxes clawing
And skriking through the streets,

Then hush,
Just televisions
Gently echoing,
Creaking stairs,
The click of kettles,
Rooms a chatter,

Then hush,
Real hush,
It’s a Monday.

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