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
Sudden as love it’s eight thirty.
Two & a half hours faffabout
oiling de railleur on rusted bikes;
clearing the drain with willow and prunes;
mumbling out of turn on the chain gang.
Serene cupidities conspire
Wilfully, making sense sensitive.
Hours with feet up.
Doing the log thing.
Eight a night
Five a day
For a week
Brown and sultry planning permissions
Granted! Today we sail on Braintree.