There was nothing to be seen Across the drenched grassy meadows, Only a small circle of light Shining through the heavy darkness. The world was deserted and I on my own.
The wind was bitter, blowing The outside lamp on the house One way and another. I could hear my footsteps Splashing in the puddled water.
To my left, Hannibal’s elephants Tramping over the Alps. But it was probably the cows Jostling each other in the barn Or the sheep complaining.
To my right, the sudden beating of sails, Almost certainly Captain Kidd, Pirate extraordinary, shouting ‘Ahoy there!’ And ‘Avast thou scurvy knave!’ Or maybe it was just Joe, Setting sail on his skinny canoe Down the skinny river. Nothing matters to him, Only the water.
In front of me, a most beautiful pyramid Sparkling in the close light From the kitchen windows, Flooding the tall chimney side of the house. I reached the door of the Pharoah’s tomb And hesitated. Then the shadow of the Rowan tree, The tree that defeated witches Fell over me.
It has been very cold here, lately, and the two cats that are around the fields and the garden, one our marmalade cat and one his sworn enemy, the black cat, are so lithe and graceful in their hunting, that I often stop to watch them. The black cat is a stray which we feed and have put him a bed in the greenhouse. Our cat is so jealous, he will stand guard over the food put out for the black cat until he’s calledThey both try hard but are never within sight of catching a bird. If our cat brings in one of the little brown field mice, he always drops it and then, with it being so small, we have to find it. Not easy. The last one hid in the round opening for the hoover hose and took us hours to find. Let out into the garden, these tiny mice vanish in aninstant down the sides of the path where they all seem to live.
If you walk the long grass in the morning When it’s white with frost And grey with the visiting clouds, You see the cats. They stalk the robin and the doves Come from a nearby garden.
Those snake quiet cats Slither through their silent world, To spring from the stickle grass With a startling coloured grace. Those cats!
They go hungry this morning Because a thin black twig Fell from a wintered tree, Frightening the red chested robin And the gentle doves,