saint’s day

rain drumming on the windows

the occasional rumble of thunder

bed next to the chimney, which could be got at through the window

but it is safe from assault or flight —

there are prickly pears and yuccas at the bottom

incidental whiff of wood fire

wisps of smoke pleasantly waft from the chimney next door

the illustrated works of shakespeare

velvet-bound, gold-emblazoned

perches on white wicker next to egg cups wearing french berets

ancient palm fronds escaped from ashes

mingle with yesterday’s roses and a stalk of koala entree

lavendar, cattails and autumn’s crispy leaves round out the decor

in the giant brandy snifter repose two clumps of now-dead moss

one cleaned from the crumbling bricks of augustine’s abbey

the other pilfered as a memory of stonehenge

a giant’s paperclip clutches a postcard of lewis chessmen

while nearby primly sits a bowl full of broken glass found on railroad tracks

wind rattles the windows as the rain patters down

the scent of coffee lurks in dusty corners long unkempt

alice wonders from the fizzling wall whether she can trust the caterpillar

his mushrooms are not the only ones to be found here

lamps illumine where all the candles have gone out

quills and ink-stained nibs lie silent

awaiting inspiration from a mind a-drift on the seas of time

new greets old

hot treats cold

black filters white

darkness hides light

the muses amuse the bemused green lover

on the rainy naomh padraig afternoon