When the dawn curls in,
and the mist rises from the sea,
when the leaves begin to sing,
and birds dance in their trees –
I wake to the cold, and the colour
There’s a sweetness in the air,
made of too many natural things,
like honeycomb and jasmine,
and the gooseberries growing by the swings.
The kettle is on, I think,
I can’t wait to see the lambs.
The dog is pining for attention,
and I sneak chocolate on my bread
instead of jam.
There’s laughter in this blanketed air,
that asks me to step into this world for a while.
For a while –
I wake to the cold and the colour