Early morning mist, Ladybirds and the young black cat
all there when it was still dark.
DAY IN WAITING
The mist came slinking in.
Very late. Gone 4.00. And cold.
Freezing cold.
I watched it pleat itself down the street,
One tireless fold after another,
Until all pleats and folds joined together,
A vast grey souffle of unseeing.
That’s the silent world
Showing off its power again.
Snow falling. Ice forming. Wind blowing.
There’s no end to it.
No-one ever presses the OFF switch
So stars fall without a whisper,
Enormous ships on enormous oceans
Sink without trace.
Relatives never to be seen again
And home sweet home a new place altogether.
Still, not to be dramatic.
That tissue-paper mist uncurls this time
Before any damage is done.
There’s that fat cat light on his paws,
Thoughtfully eyeing a small rustling in the hedgerow,
And on a cold white window-sill
A Ladybird lies dead and totally done for.
A brooch pinned on a day in waiting,
Making a whole posse of angels weep.
Making us weep, too.
Wondering what comes after this.
© 2024 Gwen Grant
Poems by Gwen Grant 