Lavender

Lavender On a mile stone in a small town I sat trying to write a poem, an old man sat on a wooden bench watching me, he had a newspaper on his lap. A cat under a car was watching him, perhaps he gave it something to eat from time to time. With a sigh I put my notebook back into the side pocket of my jacket. No poem today. The man began reading his newspaper, the cat looked away and began grooming itself. A bus stopped two elderly ladies alighted, bags full of shopping, and all was back to normal, but I remember the air of summer dust diesel fumes and the aroma of lavender.