Gap

this gap in time

a space. between

soft greys and

coming greens

a time to

change. pace

and watch a snail

trail on a square

window pane

a blur of dulled

consciousness

from pain meds

mirroring

condensation

on mid winter

dawn’s triple

glazed thrall

St Stephen’s Day

Watching the sky from our ‘sun room’ where we overwinter our geraniums. Nursing a sore back.

sudden gusts

of black dust

motes of

starlings

or small

songbirds

burst forth

from spidery

sycamore skeletons

waving bony

branch fingers

across the

gentle soft

grey sky

with luminous

liminal spaces

watched from

inside a

hazy cloud

of codeine

and caffeine

by bright globes

of whitest

geraniums

startling

against

these winter

hibernating

greens