It is too late for a long one tonight.

I got a new job today.

That is all.

Here is a poem. The prompt tonight is ‘idiosyncrasy’.

Excess sugar flurries

down from a heaped teaspoon back

into its receptacle. The man

uses a butter knife to perfectly

level the spoon before tipping

it into a white mug.

He repeats this four times,

excess flurries

butter knife level

spoon white mug.

He sits and stirs his tea

carefully. No chinks of metal on china

ring around the room.

He pulls the spoon surgically

from the cup as deep brown

waves splash the egg-shell shore.

As the body is revealed from behind

the china horizon, edges clip

each other and a perfect ‘e’

sounds.

He stands up and walks across the kitchen

to the sink, pouring the coffee down the

plug before putting the kettle on again

to restart his ritual.