Before Lunch

After breakfast I clipped the peonies
and finished dating photographs

from our last trip home. I dusted
the jade elephant before the maid came.

Today I asked her to polish
the cutlery and shine glasses.

I saw she’d straightened the umbrellas
in the hall stand. Now she’s arranging

magazines on the coffee table.
I expect she’ll be gone before lunch.

Sunday was nice. Freddie and I
drove up the peninsula and drank

out of coconuts chilled from the tree.
Mist on the hills muffled us

like the quiet fog of Dorset,
those autumn days at weekends

when, coming back after walking
the dog, the whole house

seemed to speak: the children
running up the stairs, Freddie

pottering in the garage,
the television on in the afternoon

or the dining-room radio
playing the Light Programme.

Sometimes, though, I like the silence
when the morning settles

and I hear the fridge as I sip tea
in the kitchen and catch up on my diary:

Dentist, Exercise Class,
Dinner - the Montgomerys.


First published in 'The Rialto' magazine