Lapwing

A silence redolent with
The whiff of linen being ironed.
The pencil point on skin is sharp.
Water sloshes in a bucket.

Join the disconnected dots
At the breakfast table.
A yellow orange caterpillar
Slowly bends
The oleanders in a jar.

Clink. A porcelain tea mug.
Now.. a chair.
Click. The door.
Sudden flap of wings.
Pigeons, unsettled on the window ledge.
Outside, the frantic call of a lapwing:
"Did you do it? did you do it?"