nothing happens
slate grey village street
sun shoves shadows
into deep doorways
disturbing drowsy felines
who move
with little grace
back to the warmth
around the feet
of the spectators
leather booted black suited
as cats, or witches
shuffling in sorrow
waiting for that sleek-mobile
to carry away
to their choired farewell
their compatriot
lost to time and tune
but nothing happens

@billbisgood2026