clear out

after the storm the street seemed more alive
as if the trees had finally grasped
what they were all about

the people opposite picked up debris
and swept their drives bare
as I came back here
to whatever it is I do behind these quiet curtains

I had been out on an errand
and froze
in muscle skin and bone

then I remembered when walking had been easy
and ran all the way home
clear out of road

clear out

of road

Proviso

So close to Winter now,
thoughts turn to death.

At 4 am I find myself
at the kitchen table,
my favourite spot,
with a fresh pot of coffee
and in the company of cats
asking myself:
what do I need to do
with the time I have left?

And the answer comes
exactly this, exactly this.

It came as easily as that
with the proviso
that I might like to
feed the cats.