October winds harried me homeward. Even the night, thick with menace seemed to join the headlong throng. A lull then sudden surge urging footsteps to a foxtrot tempo. I'm in no rush. But soon the chase is taken up again. A brown glass bottle animates. Lifts a rim from out the gutter unstoppered, burps the dregs with beery breath and blows a jugband to the tune of wind. Solitary, hollow, bluesy notes then like a topsy-turvy drunk comes clunking after me over and over down the hill stopping still beneath my feet. In the lamplight, winks, glints, a stray, not wanting to be left. ii On a warm windowsill, some summer flowers are supping from the bottle. A small simple spray, clutched at the neck. The long, brown body half-filled again pledged with water from the garden tap and through the opaque glass, sunlight casts a pleasing, amber shade.
For her Poetics prompt ‘Bottled Poetry‘ Grace asks us to write a poem about a bottle!
PoetryPix 