Monday, 19 December 2011

There was even a tablecloth


The outside table is made out of an old pallet. It has a rustic charm, especially with a tablecloth. By night, candle lit, it is one of the most beautiful places on earth, as voted by me, Mr & Boy. We love the space we're in. 


331
This morning we are written
Cursively across the ground floor
Comments scroll the length of
Joined up lines of liking

332
Breakfast can squash us in at the tiny table
We are pleased to share cramped proximity
When it sprawls out, the fundamental cohesion
Persists, and elbows can relax

333
Convention is considered, on merit, sometimes
Respected, often, almost inattentively, pushed
Into something workable, and it works, like art
Because of the strength of the basic structure

334
Boy regards the sky, eyebrow raised
Rain is a possibility but he will be ok
To walk to school up the lane which
Becomes a small river when wet

335
Cheap shoes and adventure, I wish they
Were a more agreeable mix. As the limits of
Language are the restrictions of understanding
Adventure is curbed by the confines of kit

336
Good things to list about cheap shoes
A symbol of something to be improved
The need to carefully perceive where you step
Understanding the sublime liberation of painless feet

337
Three bowls, three spoons, two mugs, one glass
Dirtied, begins the sink-side clutter. On a bad day
Enough to quell the appetite to get it all done
On an average day, merely an acceptable occurrence

338
If a bowl held memories within itself, you
Could hold each of these and grasp a range
Of mealtime approaches. Impromptu outdoor
Breakfast would be my favourite

339
Mr woke up first on that convivial day, saw
The wide warm sky, took the fruit
From the cool fridge, diced it up and
Called us out, there was even a tablecloth

340
This year’s summer is all consumed
Warmth has lingered in the ground
For the effortless evocation of this
Early autumn sun ascending





1 comment:

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here: