Conservatory

Such dusty mats of coconut, and hats, and wicker chairs that creak; and chats, and cats on sills that suck the early sun that spills through glass to pass into the frills and twills that talk and twitter, pass the time till tiffin, pass the time of day this way until the chills of morning pass, and cups and saucers clink and find the sink. The daily round’s begun and yarns are spun in sun and shade until the fading light brings night; and glass that’s black as peat reflects the hats and cats upon themselves while vats of black-tar dark and bats are kept outside. And clinks announce the hour for drinks.