From my new balcony in Dublin…a first view at dusk:

Dark clouds grovelled while spaced out to a vast skyline; the colder side of Woodstock missing its psychedelic sunset. I thought I saw a grand old dame peer down from the skies.  She wore a dusty gown in layered shades of gray and  stood hovering; all the while unwilling to swish her fat skirt, in case the rains burst!
A white helicopter droned past her black frock, a snowy wasp about to sting a thread from her lace.  The  moment lit up like an illumination from childhood.
In the distance, a birdling perched on a chimney top and surveyed all from its sentry post. It glared at me, the enemy spy, while  regaling in  bedtime truancy.  All looked right with nature’s rigmarole as I waited for a clear night of stars.

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