To Wake Up In The Morning And Be Happy For No Reason At All

 

 

To Wake Up In The Morning And Be Happy For No Reason At All

 

There’s a kind of dripping thing

called love. I find I have done

everything to avoid it,

but let there be love as sturdy

as a white enamel bin filled with bread,

something used absolutely every day,

the kitchen table, teapot, kettle.

 

Let it be as sacred as a cellar door,

sideways as scullery.

liminal as doorstep,

wide as wind in the trees,

as ruby rich and spreading

as the copper beech outside.

 

Let it be ours, fierce in its telling,

soft in its showing

appreciated for its very existence

for here, this is heart.

 

 

photo and poem Rose Cook