Table for Three
That bright, fresh April morning
where sunlight jimmies its way in
through the smallest fissure in the curtains,
making your alarm clock redundant.
Sunlight that won’t be ignored.
Wakefulness floods in
no matter how deep your sleep,
it is now evicted from your body.
Drawn to the window to inspect the day,
my eye is drawn to movement on
garden table and chairs.
A blue tit, breath of feather and
coloured blaze, hops and twitches:
armrest, table, chairback, table,
different chair, table and so on.
a full inspection then in a blink, gone.
The absence saddens. Until…..
three of them alight, food in their tiny beaks.
Use the table for breakfast, though wild birds
they can still be civilised.
I like to think, Dad came in first,
scoped it out, ensured its quality.
Having satisfied his criteria,
made a reservation.