Mousehole
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.
Copyright © Maggie Huscroft | Year Posted 2006
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