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A proper winter day

 

A proper winter day

 

A proper winter day

Good day sir

May I kindly assist you?

Etcetera etcetera

With some grey

& with some cold damp

& yet I see pink within the grey

& yellow & blue & green

Were I a painter

I would use all the colours

To try communicate the awesomeness of the grey blanket thrown across the clotheshorse in the sky

I rode a bicycle when a boy in Beaumaris

I hit a bump one day & fell

& no one stopped to help me

I was 14 or 15

Evidently teenage boys are not well liked

I went crazy in Singapore & received assistance

We should soon take that toilet mat in

It’s been rocking on the line a while

It’s now a darker navy grey

I once saw an elephant ride a bike

Or it may have been a bear

After a bush walk with Pepper

A deeper purple in the grey

Shot with orange

& some clear sky blue beyond

& collars of white

It’s a good day

I did the washing

Now on an old fashioned wooden clotheshorse in front of the heater, thanks Max

The light has lifted

Food in the oven

The kettle boiled for another hot water bottle

Who is the rightful hero of this tale

She walks a keen gaze

Beneficent & wise

Efficiency & silence a great friend

He rides a red rattly squeaky tricycle

Like a ruddy cheeked child

All is calm

All is quiet

Entering eye & ear the universe of silence

Listening in being caressed

In the inner ear

Except for the interjection!

No sooner I speak

Of Max’s infernal telephone

Ha

Good to have struggles

Growth regimes

Else one dwindles

I wish to be easy with the fuckin breazy

“How would the poet feel about steakington?”

“I don’t mind, if that phone would shut up!”

Domesticity with housemates

Like a blackbird digging for worms

I dig for quiet fire

The sun comes out, a flock of pigeons & a breeze & this poem can rest & live.

 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

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