Spring Fever
Late Monday, I move my bed.
I wake, see from the window
straight ahead
a neighbours five bar gate.
Sun lights the cross bars,
lays shadow kisses on the track.
Deep in shade is laurel waving green
and barns stand at the back.
Sunday I woke to wall.
head east and west my toes.
This new shift about
has made me guardian
of who comes and goes
from the comfort of my bed.
I watch the farmer lug hay,
hear from the shed
the tractor’s coughing start.
The fuss, the coo and drool
of pigeons on the ridge and geese fly over,
out of sight land on the pool.
Before the sun moves round I’m up
busy with the day,
refreshed by the position of my bed.
Inspired,
I’ll set to work on other rooms instead.