Before Tea

Before Tea


Let us go then, little girls, into the mist,
to pick autumn pictures from leaf and mould,
stir up layers of ourselves in potholes,

and see our smiles break and swim.
Let us watch the river seethe,
bite hard on rocks and broken trees,

and stand here while the world shifts
below our boots, a tiny notch,
our breathing hung like smoke.

Can you hear it, do you feel it?
Never again like that, we three:
now girls, slowly, home for tea.