The radio clicks on; John Humphries yaks about Afghanistan
Hell man! Does it ever stop?
The light calls through the curtains laughing about a bright winter morning.

You are warm and languorous next to me
But you don’t want to move; trapped by our tangled limbs.
This morning it will be me that brings us tea to sip whilst we talk in bed.

The big black dog has left and in it’s place
A small wiry terrier shivers at the morning air
Anticipating an adventure as the town wakes.

Into the frosty metal bug we retreat
As you busy yourself for work.
Today you wanted to walk through the pale misty skies.

The machine gun chatter of magpies in adjacent trees
Breaks the early morning stillness
Before they shoot off below the daytime moon.

I breathe in the cool, not cold, fresh morning; as my lungs fill
I feel the grey gloom has lifted
Replaced by a newfound wonderment for natures hibernation.

In the distance the boxes of tiny buildings matches
The drone of the metal bugs on their preset path
I hear them converting the earth to a desert.

Distracted by a row of ripe Rowan trees
Leaning towards the light
Displaying their halos of deep red berries, biting through the morning frost;
Makes the water within me tranquil.

We head back to return to the rodent racing
Until next time, when peace may reign;
And I remain thankful for another morning’s moments, so far away, for so many.