How there are things you always do, in spite of the weather, the day. Like how the kettle is the first thing you touch, summoning and coaxing its urgent whistle. You let the tea bag darken the clear, needing it strong but softened by one teaspoon of sugar. There are also things chosen seemingly on a whim, the rain freckles the window so you crack an egg, if it's a Friday two, in summer a smooth yoghurt, sliced grapefruit for bitter balance. It has been curiosity that brought me to you, distant at first, you wouldn't have seen me, still in the sway of the oak that overhangs your garden. I don't know if it was wise to come in through your window but I chanced away wisdom to the trust of your hand running along my back and a full saucer of milk. About the Author: Glen Wilson is a multi-award winning Poet from Portadown. He won the Seamus Heaney Award for New Writing in 2017, the Jonathan Swift Creative Writing Award in 2018 and The Trim Poetry competition in 2019. His poetry collection An Experience on the Tongue is out now with Doire Press. https://glenwilsonpoetry.wordpress.com/ Twitter @glenhswilson https://www.doirepress.com/bookstore/poetry/

I’ve Watched All of You by Glen Wilson
How there are things you always do, in spite of the weather, the day. Like how the kettle is the first thing you touch, summoning and coaxing its urgent whistle. You let the tea bag darken the clear, needing it strong but softened by one teaspoon of sugar. There are also things chosen seemingly on…
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