The coffee’s bitter here,
beans dark, roasted hard,
flavour for waking up
– I see Cezanne on the wall,
a fire extinguisher,
a smoke-free zone,
even water can’t soften the taste,
exploration calls,
echo of earlier conversation,
poplars wave, leaves flash,
sunlight shortening shadows
under apple trees.
A bronzed girl hangs her jacket
on the back of a chair.
(Galicia 6 August 2010)
From Bath to Cork with baby Grace 