Morning Report

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I should be drinking

boiled water

with lemon juice

but settle 

for black coffee 

and half a glazed donut

in the courtyard

watching the morning

traffic of bees

while the sparrows

cheep alarm

above the head

of the cat

stretched out 

in the dust and sun


and so it goes,

the sky blue

as a fresh coat

of paint

dabbed with white clouds

and blossom pink

as confetti


the days so soft

it threatens

to float away


only my mind

keeps it here,

a ball and chain

dragged restlessly

from once concern

to another


how I need to pay

the window cleaner

repaint the front door,

how I need to

exercise more,

use my phone less

write an epic poem

about man's inhumanity to man, 

finish Ulysses

at the third attempt,

perhaps change my hair,

my clothes,

quit my job and runaway

to the sea while I'm at it


but mostly

how I should eat

the remaining half of the 

glazed almond creme filled donut 

that waits cold and perfect

on the top shelf 

of the fridge.


While the cat looks up

with narrowed eyes

a Zen master scalding me 

to return to the sensations

of the morning flowering

around us;


the breeze and sun

upn my arm

the sweet smell of the

dropping lilac limbs,

the birds chattering

warmly in the trees,

the bees gently motoring,

a dog somewhere 




now the inner voice 


sit down, stand up

fetch this, roll over

good boy,

you have waited

so patiently

you deserve a



◄ Balance


<Deleted User> (33618)

Thu 19th May 2022 22:44

Very interesting indeed and thought-provoking!

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Stephen Gospage

Thu 19th May 2022 08:57

A fascinating poem, Tom, with so much detail and imagery. Thanks for this.

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