As the night
wanes
the heart beats carry on
my mind's awake and cannot sleep
at four
the hour before the dawn of summer days

but it is winter
and the snow's not yet begun to thaw
outside our door
where little birds find crumbs
out in the ochre coloured dim
purple thoughts float across the bland of sky

an even petal-smooth roof for us below
where lying in our beds we sigh and yawn
soon light will creep along the view
touch the fir tree tips
and make a warmer scene
as we come out of this times dream

Margaret Ann Waddicor 30th December 2015