This is Rupert, Rupert appeared in my bedroom yesterday.We had cuddles and strokes, no obvious injuries, he finally left the bedroom and went into the tree outside. Caught the cats trying to gobble him this morning so have brought him back in. He’s lovely. Poor little thing 😞.
The street lights are still out from the night. An eery darkness clings to the concrete snaking through the gardens as a chorus of birds whistle from behind leaves. Seagulls squawk in the distance. An ambulance momentarily disturbs the picturesque scene, then it is gone again. I should sleep, I should try, but those musical notes the birds sing out tantalise me to stay. They sing of love and I listen as though it were the first time my soul had understood such a concept.
Karen Hayward ©2016
