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