Falling

out of bed

at five minutes to six AM,

dreaming the semi-circle to the bathroom,

- peeing ferociously -

has a gold dust sensation about it;

an angelic, suspended relief,

'til the sunny, hoarse voice

of the pipes

accompanies me back to bed,

the world filtered into me

through the bedside radio

that I allow five minutes' PBS say

Climate change – a few nickles & dimes -

and too warm a Swedish May,

see me sink my body
(the one part of the Cosmos I can compose & train)

down 'neath a thin sheet

that I allow up to my navel and no further,

for now refraining from breakfast, coffee

and structured thinking,

letting consciousness drift a while;

a blue tint of existence hovering me off;

the Common Wood Pigeon (Columba palumbus) outside

repeating its phrase hypnotically,

prematurely halting each round as if surprised