The Chantries in Spring

Suddenly bluebells
weave a magic carpet from
the Chantries' bare earth

First pet

My cat
was called Tanya.
She was afraid of mice,
and her favourite food was cheese.
Dead now.

Winter morning

Like a squirrel caught in the open
a dream scuttles away
and I am awake in the winter gloom.

I glance at the bedside clock display;
myopic eyes in this darkened room
have me reaching for glasses – six something.

Not yet seven. Still time to rest.
6: so rounded, female, comforting;
shape of an armchair snug and blessed.

The clock's a pitiless device,
will flick to seven before my eyes.
7: angular, sparse, precise;

the call to work, the cue to rise;
an arrow pointing to the day;
the sign for dreams to flee away.