Storm

His mobile phone rings.
He takes it off the Friday lunchtime
pub table, clears his throat,
and puts it to his ear. Hello, yeah
not bad thanks… just out for a little walk
at the moment. Yeah, no, you’re right,
it’s not that windy, no, yeah, it is windy,
but…my phone has new technology
that cuts out any background sound…

His three mates start blowing
from their mouths, whistling
to mimic the sound of a breeze.
Oh, you can hear the wind now? Hmm,
maybe it’s broken, yeah, speak soon boss
.
His cheeks go sunset red,
his mates’ laughter weathers the storm.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

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