The day I turned seventy-seven
I did not indulge in a sleep-in
but rose at five thirty
to see to the starving dogs.
They were duly,
silently, grateful,
bowls licked shining.
We’d all slept ‘like logs’
and now would enjoy
some wakefulness,
however soon might supervene
the need for shut-eye -
these days, a nap not long
after breakfast, me resting
eyes on laptop screen*
or morning paper's fine print,
they on kitchen floor couchant
or near the fireplace sprawled
as if it was already on.
It’s a Dimplex -
faux flames, kitsch -
comforting nevertheless.
‘I warmed both hands
before the Fire of Life’ -
but saving power
left it switched off.
*theage-au/obituary-browse
6am, Friday 13 June 2014
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