We sat outside the café
stretched our legs

and soaked our feet
in the pool of sunshine

that dimpled and flickered
with the shifting

and whispering
of the sycamores overhead.

We forgot that tomorrow
the clocks go back

that wet leaves will plaster
the chairs and tables.

With thanks to Dave Bonta and the Via Negativa poetry blog, where this was posted in October 2015.

—
Jean Morris lives in London, takes photos, translates from French and Spanish, and surprised herself last year by seriously getting into poetry. She most recently had some micro-poems published in Otata.