This frosted moment in the afternoon,
you watching the grey sky
the Russian Poetry book in one hand,
snow stopped falling,
a cat standing still in the street,
the low hanging sun behind the clouds.
No curtain is moving but eyes are fixed.
You don’t blink. We hear no traffic,
no wind, an all over silence
is awaiting the inevitable:
the encounter of the new postman
and the neighbour’s German Shepherd.