The Miranet is Pointing to the Sky

The minaret is pointing to the sky. Its two small windows point upwards too, one of which is deep black inside, the other black with a chink of white; light penetrates the solid. What struck me first was its heavy pointed hat, held on the thinnest of concrete pins. Then the loudspeakers. They are emphatic, but I want to enlarge them and leaf them in gold.

The satellite dish points upwards too; mouth open wide; epiglottis exposed and held taught. The curve of the dish echoes the crescent moon; moon and stars, images of night.

The aeroplane, far away and silent, is also reaching upwards. People, sounds and signals rise and fall. Where is all the energy going ?

It is perfect weather today; neither hot nor cold, and it is quiet, except for the grinding of the bin lorry.