Marilyn Ricci

Here is a small poem which I originally wrote some years ago but which remained unpublished because I couldn’t ‘get it right’ somehow. I found it again recently and ‘made it new’, as each morning is new. (Images are by Niamh Ricci)

Morning

leans into
creak of
stove
grace
note of
kitchen clock
shush of
cradled wash
flutter of
hand
towards
the pen.