As a nocturnal breed,
Mr Honk never fully adapted
to his condition, but even he knew
that the parchment nomads,
like hidden pilcrows,
favour serene moonbaths
under the waned crescent
once all the trinkets of the day
finally run their course
and even the turntable
can’t outshout the chorus
of aspiring seagulls.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
With the linden tree within reach,
if it weren’t for the glass,
Mr Honk appreciated the humility
of sitting by the window,
where he could read in peace,
stretched out on a folding garden chair—
a rather unusual piece of furniture
for a living room—
and even the sun rays, here and there
breaking through the branches,
were not too intrusive,
but he would never have admitted
that he was actually looking forward
to the arrival of July, so that he could fill
the marginalia with linden blossoms
and bumblebees buzzing amongst
the words.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
hidden pilcrow 