Softly uniform pearl grey, the day
creeps in under the lost horizon
and shades of green peak in bright yellows,
aching to catch the first strands of gold
that will turn cradled dewdrops into
tiny fairground mirrors; the moment
comes and goes. A silent wren darts back
to the privet as distant rumbles
change the nature of expectations.
The cat abandons it’s casual
indifference; elegant, lolloping
with intent, its semi-urgent gait
leading to the open greenhouse door.