Sometimes I wake up to the soft whirring sound
Of the washing machine spinning clothes round and round,
The chirps from the sparrows sitting under the eaves,
The rustling and scraping as the wind blows the leaves,
The murmur of talk as someone speaks to the dogs,
The pit-pat on concrete as the running man jogs,
The noise from the pigeons as they feed from tin cups,
The beat of their wings as disturbed they fly up,
And as the room comes alight with the early-morn glow,
It’s telling me it’s time to get up and go.
From Entertaining Verse Poems
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 3:54 AM UTC
Sometimes I wake up to the soft whirring sound
Of the washing machine spinning clothes round and round,
The chirps from the sparrows sitting under the eaves,
The rustling and scraping as the wind blows the leaves,
The murmur of talk as someone speaks to the dogs,
The pit-pat on concrete as the running man jogs,
The noise from the pigeons as they feed from tin cups,
The beat of their wings as disturbed they fly up,
And as the room comes alight with the early-morn glow,
It’s telling me it’s time to get up and go.
From Entertaining Verse Poems
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)
