On my front step
sleepy-eyed
the dazzle of early morning sun
on my eyelids
not awake enough
to think –
mind full of dreams
images cling to the edge of memory
snatch at recognition
the valley wakes
dogs bark
lawn mowers
echo hammer blows
(indistinct) voices
cars drive past
on the road below
turn and look
see the watered silk of the harbour
pincushioned by feeding gulls.
not awake enough
to move
Sleep-heavy limbs curl
comfortable
around waning dreams
The day can wait
A little longer.
Miriam Richardson
