Moment

The morning sun,
distracted by the sky,
barely notices her stir,
her tea as she rises

The sky stretches from chimney to antennae
and then crows at a cat's attempt at mimicry...
stretching from slumber to greet the day

She looks out, a face lovely,
behind the window pane
captivated by a daisy-chained cat
and delighted children.

Turning back to pick
Anne Summers' little catalysts from the bedroom floor.
She barely notices the passing of time
He is still asleep,
Still a little coaldust ingrained in his mind.

Shunning sun.
He dreams of winter.
And somewhere dark beneath his mines
But not so far away
Winter dreams of him.