This is not a poem

It’s a heatwave. What was it like to get drenched, to be showered on, to come home damp & dank?

The longest day is past.  Gone for a year. It was a tipping-point, nevertheless snow is unimaginable.

Lazing round listening to languid language – utterances from friends, acquaintances, companions, strangers: research time.

There is a time for everything.  Now is the hour for breathing through your nose.

Who knows what’s coming?

Music maybe.

 

Published by

Paul O'Mahony

I'm Paul O'Mahony (Cork). On Twitter you can reach me @Omaniblog A father. I work as business storytelling consultant - Podcaster - Blogger - Poet - Live streamer via Periscope - Foodie - naturally ambitious + love to share my contacts. Live in Glanmire, Cork Ireland Europe linkedin.com/in/paulhomahony

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