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
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


Catherine said...

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

Kay 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 Cooke said...

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

Clocking Out

 I have been neglecting this blog for some months. I think perhaps I should face facts and accept that it is indeed time to retire this blog...