It’s quarter past three,
just Barney & Me,
the days closed right in,
with the rain and the wind
mistletoe grows
roots in my toes
flowers in air
I’m drinking my friend
To the end
Of a heliotrope
So no sun for my baby
And no sun for the road…
One o’clock post-kip
Alarm!
Instigates
a comedy of coffee;
a droop-eyed facile post;
a headful of Cape Cod radio snow,
and then the dogs, the raucous curs,
yelping all night long, warning off,
repelling stalking predators, slumber,
stray sleep-walking creditors.
Then some sleep,
but just itchy, tetchy bits and pieces, tosses and turns.
And the waiting. The waiting for the barks to resume.
Now comes the
car doors, the revving of early birds
off to the Smoke to do the night thing.
Obey.
…changed into a pair of deckchairs &
a faded purple clout having toed the line
between night & day, summoned (you guessed)
by dogs.
A stumbling, humbling, grumbling
shower at glumrise,
heavy lead heavens above –
the best place for heavens,
I find.
On the Whole
Grimbeau 