Coffee Break Poem by Daniel Bourke

For once it's me looking out; the tall glass windows
framing a beastly December - do the passersby think me some brag?
With my coffee and my notebook and my folded arms

A parade of fashions and faces; some mouthing words
though none making sound, the hush of their
boots meeting ground

They pass and they pass, all billowing scarves and rippling wools
A half of them catching my eye
I wonder how long might I stay in their minds

The scene is a postcard sent from the pole, muted by glass
The evergreens silently bluster and thrash

The distant mountains are Wicklow, and sheeted by snow
These overnight alps are preposterously old, and comfortingly so
Poised to outlive us..

To think we are just lights to them, this whole bustle
This voguish and sweet-bitter hustle
Our rush is a comedy!

Pushing open the heavy door, the movie has ended
the dream is done, and sound returns
in a rush of frozen wind