Magic – by Julia Dean-Richards

When I am in your house

magic is there.

It is in the Hoover

the dustpan

the dirty sink;

it is in the ash bucket

and the coal-scuttle;

it hangs over the banister

pretending to be an odd sock.

Magic speaks

through a cockerel crowing strangely outside,

through the grass growing wild in your garden,

through a CD I didn’t choose;

it jolts me as I drive over potholes

on the way to your door

and calls to me through your rattling letter box.

I don’t say much, because I am listening.

Published by

Julia Dean-Richards

Julia is a writer and performer living in the Shropshire hills. Her writing is a product and expression of the love she has found whilst journeying through the most difficult times of her life.

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