TATTERED CONFUSION

My garden looks raggedy, midway through the tattered confusion of autumn. A season of promises. What has gone before will come again. It's hard to believe when we scan our shabby shrubs and patchy plants, but as the Earth tilts slightly on its axis it gives us all a knowing wink.

FIRST CUP OF TEA

The first cup is the deepest.

SEASONAL MARRIAGE

Autumn and Winter are married. Leaf confetti continues to fall in celebration. Poor Summer. How must it be feeling? Dumped for a younger model. Spring catches the bouquet, already plotting to steal Winter, as this seasonal love rectangle slices into yet another wedding cake.

CLOCKS BACK

We've had an extra hour in bed 

Or so the theory goes,

But I awoke an hour ahead

I missed out, I suppose.

ALPHABET DAY

A new day

B eckons

C horuses

D eliver

E minent

F elicitations

G reat

H ope

I n

J ust 

K nowing

L ife

M eans 

N umerous

O ases

P ausing

Q uiet

R eflection

S imple

T reats

U ltimate

V iability

W ondering

X pectation *

Y ielding

Z zz's

* (ok I cheated)

FIRST CUP OF TEA

later than normal; I'm sipping my first when I'd normally be sipping my second or third, and I fear it may upset the space-time teaquilibrium.

TIME'S MENU

What food does Time serve?

Hours d'oeuvres, minute servings, leaving me wanting seconds.

TEA PAINTING

First cup of tea: today's tea memories are painted from my 'chipped mug' period.

TRICKS OF TIME

My bedroom clock

It ticks then tocks,

Though maybe it tocks then ticks.

One follows the other

Like star-crossed lovers

Parted by Time's endless tricks.

SOFT FOCUS

Misty rainy clings in confusion to my old town. It doesn't know whether to hang around in the air or to fall upon the ground and polish the pavements with an oily sheen. Consequently, the town is in soft focus, which may be no bad thing. I'm not quite yet ready for my close up.

SUNDAY WORSHIP

My body is a temple

But I've no wish to flatter

I have no congregation

I just pray I don't get fatter.

My body is a temple

I sing Abide With Me

But Time says sing the other one,

Nearer, My God, To Thee.

WHERE IT ENDS AND WHERE IT BEGINS

There must be that one breath

That is our last breath

Before we fall asleep.

There must be that one breath 

That is our last breath

Before we then awake.

WHO CAN PHILOSOPHISE ABOUT TEA?

Camus can but Immanuel Kant.

TINY HOTEL BEDROOM TEACUPS

I feel like a giant

In hotel stays

Their cups are tiny

I have to say 

I feel quite silly 

With their contribution

I wonder if 

They're Lilliputian?

ROUGH

My nightshirt is wrinkled 

It's looking real rough

Then I remember

I sleep in the buff.