Early

Early the grey August light stirs us half-awake.

We lie delighted, not with the prospect of another day but happy to be only half-awake and granted these moments spent in each other’s company. We are the lucky ones; the world outside a dangerous place peopled by monsters out of our first faerie-book.

But, light filtering through these yellow curtains, we are safe as children who have stumbled on a certain magic.

The alarm allows no safety in numbers.

Sensible we move about a house peopled by its outraged silence.