Friday, December 17, 2010

It was a dark and stormy morning

Mm, tea, Earl Grey
infusing me with warmth,
mirth. Thick TH sounds
rich and dark, bold as
thunder and as love.
Thickets of thistles,
brambly on a norTHern moor.
Burnt umber lumbering,
luscious loam. Thatches
and snatches of parchment,
thimblefuls of ashes,
wastepaper urns.

Crumbs of scones,
tucking in less tidily
with gustatory moans.
Toast with jam, jars
tinkling against a
thrumming spoon.
Galoshes in squelches,
anticipating puddle jumping.
Giggling porridge play
ere embracing the day.