my wife curled in her warmth
our shared life in folds
the dog in her basket in repose
at ease in her domain
this day breaking gently
dull and grey, the lawn fresh mown
I have a cup of tea, ruled lines and a pen that challenges
the yawning space of a day ahead
eternity safe in perpetual humour
What luxury is this?
The faint and pleasant tinkle of water pouring into the fish tank
Our own constructed water-fall seems to murmur in voices
forever in a charmed post-office queue
history and culture coalescing in the democratic act
of buying stamps
repetitions rising and falling in a contented chant
harking now in my mind to halcyon days
of village greens, Bobbies on Beats and buttery yellow daffodils
nostalgia forming a cloak of innocent lies
What is this? A moment of Grace?
I must remember. This is not a race
and in the end all I ever need to find is gratitude.