The Habit of Light
In the early evening she liked to switch on the lamps
in corners, on low tables, to show off her brass,
her polished furniture, her silver and glass.
At dawn she'd draw all the curtains back for a glimpse
of the cloud-lit sea. Her oak floors flickered
in an opulence of beeswax and light.
In the kitchen, saucepans danced their lids,
the kettle purred on the Aga, supper on its breath
and the buttery melt of a pie,
and beyond the swimming glass of old windows,
the kettle purred on the Aga, supper on its breath
and the buttery melt of a pie,
and beyond the swimming glass of old windows,
in the deep perspective of the garden,
a blackbird singing,
a blackbird singing,
she'd come through the bean rows in tottering shoes,
her pinny full of strawberries,
a lettuce, bringing the palest potatoes in a colander,
her red hair bright with her habit of colour,
her habit of light.
a lettuce, bringing the palest potatoes in a colander,
her red hair bright with her habit of colour,
her habit of light.
Gillian Clarke
It has a way of getting into you.
xx-holly
Love this, Holly! I see that you live in Oceanside. We lived there in the early 90’s! It has the most perfect weather in the whole world!!!
ReplyDeleteThank You! Weather certainly is great - 82 degrees this weekend. If you haven't been here in a while, you would certainly find it changed. Some good and some, not so much.
DeleteLove your blog - always a great idea and a good laugh. Don't ever stop! Be well...xx, holly