All up in time,
To the beauty of uncleared snow –
We can sense the sun’s approach.
Intone the morning mantra –
Percussive click of needles
A chatty bobbin on the wheel.
A winter-shaded finch plays in the hedgerow.
We creatures of instinct
Bless the morning
In somnambulant pastime,
Broken by brash hymns only a mother could love.
Timing is everything,
But this strutter has no sense of it —
Always barging in
With an incessant, arrogant crowing.
First once, then twice his voice breaks.
On the third, trains jump the tracks –
A wilderness strewn with debris
And murderous, predatory intent.
Driven to distraction,
The rail-rhythm breaks.
Bootstomp, mad-eye, a hammering at the door.
“Just eat the damn bastard, already!”