Lounging in bed, writing
A tick box of me time
A fox, the one with the tail absent of fur, skips
across the adjacent, vacant school yard
back to his home in the unkept bushes.
Birds zip past my window in the languid,
still grey sky.
The dog lies serenely accepting
the licks and nudges of the cat
who nestles into her
All is quiet
until
the reverberating bawl of the binman’s wagon,
the clattering of lids
and the great thuds as the bins
are thrown back into almost their space,
awaken the sleepy world
Reminding me that it’s high time
I hauled my lazy ass
out of my pit.
Poetry for Dullards 