As cool as the other side of his pillow
Two days beard growth, hair, more shape on a hay rick
That’s the way the thinking process is this morning
Not such a pleasant sight in the breaking light of dawn
Twisting, turning, uneasy in himself
Then to rub salt into the wound if you will
A magpie dressed in its tuxedo perched on the windowsill
Tap, tap, tapping at its reflection.
Lying there prone, pulling the silk sheet over his head
Speaking loudly to no one but himself
One for sorrow, two for joy, was this a sign
Just then the tapping ceased
Pulling down the creased sheet
Listening for a heartbeat, yes there was a pulse
The bird had taken flight, the bedroom door opened
The vision of beauty returned from the shower
The thinking process now back on track.
Poetry from The Man Shed
13/01/2020
~The Poet’s Poet~
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