An English Morning Poem by Anthony Dover

A Hint of light,
dreams fleeing,
porridge stirring,
work unkeenley beckons.

ground beneath feet,
weirdly and writing-
like cracked and interlaced,
with moss and weeds.

A remember berry of winter,
and the nubile shoots of spring,
splashes of gold and white,
and vermillon times twenty.

cats sleetingly eyed,
trying to lose their nature,
posy themselves and a stroke seems enough,
to reassure them.

thicket of twigs seen and forgotten,
traffic intermingles below,
suede architecture and musty mouthed,
letterboxes snap and creak.

builders and workmen,
laugh and joke,
and the sky is passing,
blue, grey and white.

sweat and white edges impartially,
designed reflect the sun and,
and a glint of light,
beckons me home.