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/
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