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U3A Writing: The Swish Of The Broom

A swish of the broom brings order where there was disorder, as Maureen Foremanís poem reveals.

With a swish of the broom the leaves fly.
Ants disappear in a flurry of action,
petals fall delicately, fragile, poignant.
Grass from the mower invades the paths
that wait for the remorseless swish of the broom.

The patio shrieks of death and destruction.
Flies hang suspended in dusty, flaccid webs.
Spiders wait, patiently, for unwary invaders,
not heeding the frantic swish of the broom.

Debris litters the melancholy space
where yesterdayís pleasures fade.
Cooling breezes bring unwanted gifts
of roadside throwaways and cast off baggage.
More work for the wearying swish of the broom.

The ginger cat, lazy, sensuous,
seeks a sanctuary for his midday nap.
Stretches out, yawns expansively on the mat,
oblivious to mundane things
like a swish of the broom. There goes the cat!

They come tomorrow with kids and the dog.
Raised dust is forecast, strong winds and a change.
So Iíll linger a while in my picture book garden
to rest, and reflect on a swish of the broom.

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