Saturday, 10 April 2010

at work

Today I was told by a three-year old
I wasn't her friend.
Observed total misery,
raw delight. Found shoes,
placed grubby soft-toys
up high, picked up
from the floor playdough
as pink as old-fashioned
woollen long-johns. Named
a painting of a hippo.
Saw a guinea pig's
engaged disposition.

Applied ice to a bruise
nestled like a purple berry
behind a small ear.
Followed perfectly
instructions to place a beanbag
on my head, walk around
the room. And first thing,
as I uncovered
the sandpit and wiped
with a towel
condensation-coated
outdoor equipment,

saw a pair of horses
from the stables next door
being put through their paces,
heard the even drum
of well-behaved hooves,
glimpsed the stretch
from the bit to the sulky
swaying like a boat behind,
the silver aerial of reins
transmitting their message of order,
how it begins
in the light of early mornings.

Kay McKenzie Cooke

4 comments:

Catherine said...

I'm really enjoying reading all your lovely work this month

Kay McKenzie Cooke. said...

Catherine, thank you very much. I appreciate your support and presence there reading my poetry. I am enjoying your poetry too - very much so.

Pen said...

'how it begins' indeed and I love the horse and sulky as the 'message of order',

Kay McKenzie Cooke. said...

Pen - Moments like that are born to be captured, and sometimes I manage it ... :)

Harbour

Harbour
'how this all harbours light'