Apropos of nothing

Fidget enough, and I could squirrel safe

Inside the carcass of the tyre swing.

A cradle carapace.

Hours passed. Daylight would dwindle into dusk

And smudgy embers of sunshine perish.

Nothing to see, and nothing more to do.

Teatime calls: I can no longer delay.

Spring lamb platter; a sacrificial feast

For Gods and monsters, all.

It was not normal. I knew that by then.

 ‘Apropos of Nothing’ won the first place prize of our 2021 International Poetry Competition.