Mousehole

Written by: Maggie Huscroft

Shifting focus from farm to stars
the drifting night begins
where listless day turns to mist.
Beyond the harbour bar
boats put out to sea.

By dawn the salty breeze 
is flecked with foam
it peppers the Postie 
as he makes his way
around the quay.
He stops to watch 
the fishing boats 
ploughing home
through  pearly sea.

And dreaming 
of what the day might bring
sleepy couples, yawning,
pad downstairs. 
In chorus all the kettles sing 
above the morning news 
of stocks and shares.
And thirstily, 
a hundred cups of tea
are raised to lips 
simultaneously.