Lying in bed upstairs at 5:30 AM,
pacified by the hour and the effects of gravity,
sleep barely wearing off;
the intellect clear as pure alcohol
and chilly sunlight in a crystal container,
I can listen
to the indistinctive monochrome sounds
of an ordering of the world
that is in progress around me;
Anna moving about downstairs,
taking her lunch boxes out of the fridge,
slipping them into her bag,
filling up the cat's bowl,
cleaning out his litter tray,
pouring some fresh cat litter,
and finally opening & closing the front door,
pushing it tight and locking it behind her,
leaving the house a lonely two-storey safety container
for me and the old cat,
before she walks across the yard,
entering the garage, pushing the start-up button,
backing the 4WD out of there, turning it around
as the radio starts blurting out the morning news
about Israel's & Iran's various options,
leaving the premises,
with the crackling of the tires
across the gravel
suddenly turning silent
as she passes 'round the corner
and disappears down the alley,
leaving but the constant rhythm of myself obvious,
and the ageing cat's call for happiness
down the stairs

The passive, automatic registering
of the bumping, screeching, bouncing activity
of preparations
is quite a benign phenomenon
that doesn't ask anything of me
and my assortment of senses,
letting the impulses play
across the surface tension of consciousness,
time falling calmly like birch pollen;
Nothing full of environs,
Life a fully fledged here & now
in passing